


Voices from the Past

by rebelrsr



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/F, Magic, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-01
Updated: 2008-04-01
Packaged: 2019-08-22 12:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 93,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16597508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelrsr/pseuds/rebelrsr
Summary: Buffy meets an old acquaintance from her Hemery days. How will that affect her relationship with the Scoobies?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to one of the oldest fics in my vault. I'm finally working my way through the Oldies and adding them here (Thanks for the reminder, Cotto!)
> 
> A/N: This is a private challenge fic. It follows the following guidelines/comments:  
> 1\. B/T, but Buffy and Tara knew each other from Hemery, and we all know Buffy was a BITCH. How they meet is up to you, but don't make Tara cave too early on forgiveness.  
> 2\. W/F are a couple since Faith showed up in S3. None of the badness happened except the Deputy Mayor, but was handled without the Wesley clusterfuck.  
> 3\. Obvious S4, and I know you are and have done the Adam thing, so you can decide what to do with that.  
> 4\. The only thing I ask is you do a Beer Bad chapter, so the whole stinky Parker thing happens which could be where Tara finally sees change in Buffy.

Tara knocked softly on the door and waited. No one answered. Biting her lip, she used her new key and let herself into the dorm room. The small space was cluttered – on one side. The other side was bare. She didn’t have much. In fact, even after she’d unpacked and set out her few personal items, the room still appeared to have only one occupant.

Grabbing her journal, she collapsed on her bed. _Hey, Mama. I just moved into my new room. I’m going to miss having a single, but this way the scholarship will pay for all of the room and board. I just hope my roommate will be OK with me showing up unannounced._ Laying the pen down for a minute, Tara took a slip of paper out of the back of the journal and smoothed it out next to her. It wasn’t anything earth shattering, just a simple computer printout with the name of her new roommate and the room number. Her stomach clenched as she gently traced the name. Buffy Summers. _You don’t think it’s the same one, do you, Mama?_ _I mean, what are the chances that both of us would end up in Sunnydale?_

“Hey, Buffy, what’s the door…“ A slender redhead stopped abruptly in the doorway. “Um, sorry. Wrong room.” She grinned and backed up, glancing at the room number. “Or not. Is Buffy here?”

Ducking her head so her hair covered her eyes, Tara stuttered, “I ha-haven’t s-seen her.”

The visitor crossed her arms, frowning fiercely. “Haven’t seen her, like she’s just down the hall? Or haven’t seen her, like the door was open and you just let yourself in?”

Tara closed her journal and moved toward the headboard. “I have a k-key.”

“Oh.” The girl seemed more confused but a little less hostile.

Face bright red, Tara admitted, “I’m her n-new roommate.” A quick glance showed the redhead about to ask a question. “H-here’s the form.” She held the half-sheet out in case the girl didn’t believe her.

“Wow! That was fast.” The girl bounced closer, and a hand appeared in front of Tara’s nose. “I’m Willow. Willow Rosenberg.”

“T-Tara.” She clasped the hand briefly before falling silent again.

The silence stretched only seconds, though. Willow sat cross-legged on the other bed. “So, Tara, are you a freshman, too? We are. I mean, me and Buffy and my girlfriend Faith.” She gasped. “Oh Goddess, that came out wrong. I don’t usually just blurt it out like that. You don’t…you’re OK with lesbians, right?”

The wide, horror-filled green eyes were too cute. Tara giggled.

Willow grinned at the sound. “That’s an ‘OK with lesbians’ giggle?”

“W-well, I don’t usually give my g-giggles n-names, but yes. No problem with lesbians.” Feeling more relaxed by the second, Tara leaned back against the wall and tucked her hair behind her left ear. “Do you and F-Faith live here, too?”

“No!” Willow’s eyes widened in horror. “Faith and other students would so not be a good thing.”

Not wanting to offend the friendly redhead, Tara didn’t ask for an explanation.

Perhaps sensing Tara’s unease, Willow rushed on to a different topic. “So, what are you studying?” She barely paused to breathe, and certainly didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m working on a computer science degree. Did you know UC-Sunnydale has one of the best programs in the state for that? And Faith…well, Faith isn’t really sure of her major yet. She and Buffy aren’t big with the studying, you know.”

Fighting off giggles at the infectious babble, Tara commented, “I think it’s normal for freshmen to have trouble picking a major. You seem to know what you want to do, though. Computer science.” She frowned, trying to think of something to ask.

Willow giggled. “I recognize that look.”

“Wh-what look?” Tara blushed, hating the stutter.

“The ‘what does a computer science major do, anyway’ look.” Willow stretched out on her side, head propped in her hand. “Don’t worry. I get it a lot.” She watched Tara quietly for a second, causing the blonde to hide behind her hair again. “You never said what you’re studying.”

“Oh, um, I’m working on a d-double major in History and Re-Religious Studies.” Tara forced herself to look up, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m a sophomore.”

“Really? Cool.” Willow smiled. “Hey, I need to run. Do you have any plans for tonight? I mean, I’m sure Buffy will ask you when she gets here, but just in case she’s late or something. You want to meet us all at the Bronze tonight? There’ll just be a few of us. Me and Faith, Buffy, and our friend Xander and his girlfriend.”

Tara automatically shook her head then made the mistake of actually looking at Willow.

“Please?” The green eyes silently begged her to change her mind, and Willow’s lower lip pushed out slightly.

Unable to look away, Tara fought the pull of Willow’s pleading face. “N-no.” The lip slid out further. _Goddess, I bet her girlfriend does anything Willow wants._ She was completely mesmerized, head nodding without conscious thought. “Sure. I gu-guess I could come for a while.” She blinked dazedly when the pout transformed into a beaming smile.

“Perfect. We’ll see you about eight then.” Willow bounced off the bed. “Buffy can walk you there.” She hesitated by the door. “Sunnydale isn’t really safe after dark. If she’s not back by seven thirty, give me a call.” She pointed at a message board by the door. “The number’s right here: Faith and Willow.”

“OK,” Tara mumbled.

Willow glared. “Not OK. Promise. No going out on your own.”

The vehemence didn’t match Willow’s usual personality. Not wanting to upset her new acquaintance and possible friend, Tara agreed, “No going out alone. If Buffy’s not here, I’ll call.”

Apparently satisfied, Willow waved and disappeared down the hall.

***

Buffy took the stairs three at a time. Another roommate. Perfect. _If this one is like Kathy, in any way, I am so moving back home. Huh_. She paused at the landing. _Maybe I should. Mom’s been acting kinda weird lately._ Shelving that idea for later examination, she bounded up the next flight.

The door to her room was open. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Buffy stepped inside. “Hey,” she greeted the blonde girl lying on the bed.

The blonde head snapped up, blue eyes widening in what looked like horror. “B-B-Buffy.”

“That’s me.” A little confused by the other girl’s expression, Buffy flashed her biggest smile. “Buffy Summers, Freshman.” The attempt at suave and funny failed. The blue eyes disappeared behind a curtain of hair. Stepping farther into the room, Buffy dropped her book bag next to her desk and flopped onto her bed. The silence was suffocating.

Unable to take the quiet any longer, Buffy sat up and spun so she faced her new roommate. “I know this is awkward.” She cleared her throat and wiped sweating palms on the bedspread. “Could you tell me your name?”

A short laugh answered her.

Buffy waited for more. When it became apparent the blonde wasn’t talking, Buffy tried again. “Something funny? ‘Cause I’m all for a little humor. It keeps me from turning into Grumpy Buffy, so not a pretty sight.”

“S-stop. Just stop.” Buffy fell silent, staring at the bent head. “I can’t be-believe this.”

“Can’t believe what?” Buffy was starting to get frustrated by the girl’s actions.

The blonde head slowly rose. Angry blue eyes glared at Buffy. “You don’t re-remember me, do you?”

Frowning, Buffy stared back, examining the other girl closely. Something about her _did_ seem familiar. Searching her memory, though, didn’t produce a name or anything else useful. “I…not really. You look familiar. Have we met before?”

The girl slid off the bed. Arms wrapped tightly around her frame, she sniffed and blinked against the wetness in her eyes.

“Hey, if I did something to make you mad, I’m so sorry.” Buffy started to get up, stopping when the blonde shied away.

“S-sorry.” The word seemed to eek out from between clenched teeth. “I’m sup-supposed to believe that? You c-can’t even remember what you did.” Her deep breath echoed in the otherwise silent room. “My l-life sucks so mu-much,” she mumbled to herself. Then, louder, she directed at Buffy, “I’ll c-call the Housing Office in the mor-morning. I’m sure there’s s-someone else looking for a roommate.”

“But-“ Buffy broke off as a slender hand snapped up, palm out.

“No. I w-won’t…I can’t do this again.” She grabbed a backpack, stuffing it with books and other supplies while Buffy simply stared in shock. “T-tell Willow I’m sor-sorry I couldn’t make it.” Bag looped over left shoulder, the blonde scurried out the door.

Still not sure what had happened, Buffy slowly climbed off the bed and closed the door to the dorm room. “What the hell was that all about?” Searching through her book bag, she located the form from the Housing Office. After reading the part about them assigning her a new roommate, Buffy had crumpled the letter and tossed it into her bag. She needed a name. It took a complete clearing of the cluttered bag before she found it. Impatiently straightening the balled-up paper, Buffy scanned the information. There! Tara Maclay.

“Oh, no.” Feeling suddenly nauseous, Buffy stumbled to the bed and sat down. This had to be some kind of sick joke. It couldn’t really be her, could it? Remembering the horrified blue eyes and the terrible stutter, Buffy acknowledged the fact her life really, really was a nightmare.


	2. Chapter 2

After a few minutes of staring at her hands, Buffy dragged herself up. Willow. She needed to talk to Willow. She grabbed the phone, punching in the number with shaking fingers.

“Yeah?” Faith growled in her ear.

“Hey, it’s Buffy.” _Duh, I’m sure Faith couldn’t recognize your voice_. “Is Will there?”

A snort came through the phone. “Nah, it’s not like she lives here or anything.” An angry voice sounded in the background. When Faith spoke again, her voice was resigned. “She’s here. Hang on, B.”

The wait wasn’t long. “Buffy? Hi! Are you home? I met your new roommate. She seems…”

“Will!” Buffy interrupted. A shocked silence followed her outburst. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just…there’s a problem with Tara.”

“Already?” Willow’s voice squeaked. “She’s not another demon is she?”

Leaning her head against the wall, Buffy mumbled, “No. I’m betting she thinks I’m one, though.” Hurrying to avoid the questions she was sure were on the way, Buffy continued, “You think we could move up the get together at the Bronze? There are some things you guys need to know about me and Tara.”

“I guess so. We were just going to dinner before heading to the Bronze. You want to join us for food before fun?” Willow asked.

Did she want to have dinner with them? Buffy considered that. Willow pestering her with questions while Faith glared because she was interrupting their romantic dinner plans. “No.” The refusal was firm. “I’m going to head by Mom’s and say hi. She’s been mopey lately. Can we meet at, say, seven instead of eight?”

“Seven it is. Um…Are you bringing Tara? I kind of invited her along,” Willow mumbled the last few words.

“I don’t think she’s coming, Will.” One more lie wouldn’t make any difference at this point. Right? Buffy vowed to explain everything – even today’s scene with Tara – when they met at the Bronze. “She…she said she had something else to do.”

Willow’s voice ended in a gasp, and a loud smack sounded. Buffy heard Faith grumbling in the background. “OK. Um…is…is that all, Buffy?” Willow cleared her throat. “’Cause, you know, things to do and all that.”

 _More like Faith to do_ , Buffy commented to herself. “Yeah, that’s it. Can you let Xander know…” The line went dead. “…about the change in plans, too?” she said to the dial tone. “Guess not.”

Her next call yielded a message for Xander. Of course, knowing his mother, he’d never get it. She’d call again from home. Grabbing her Emergency Slaying Kit, Buffy ran out of the dorm, lengthening her stride as soon as she cleared the more populated areas. The trip didn’t take long. She stood awkwardly outside the front door. Should she knock? She didn’t live here anymore, even if she had a key. Deciding to cover all her bases, Buffy rapped her knuckles against the door a couple of times before using her key to let herself in.

“Mom?” she called out.

Joyce rushed out of the kitchen, smiling. “Buffy!” She grabbed a stunned Buffy in a crushing hug. “You’re OK? Nothing’s wrong?”

Wiggling a little against the tight embrace, Buffy shook her head. “No. Everything’s fine.” She cursed her mother’s instincts. Joyce’s eyebrows rose. “They are. All is good in Buffyland.” The eyebrows didn’t come down, and Buffy slumped against her mother. “Alright. You win.”

“I usually do, honey.” Joyce pulled away, leaving an arm wrapped around Buffy’s waist. She walked them to the living room and sat down on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I mostly want to crawl into a deep hole and stay there,” Buffy mumbled.

Pulling a leg up on the couch, Joyce turned to Buffy. “Sounds serious.”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah. Way serious.” She picked up a pillow, hugging it tightly to her chest. “Remember right before we moved here, we had this big argument?” Buffy kept her gaze on the floor. “You said a lot of stuff I didn’t want to hear. Mostly about the way I was acting and my loser friends.”

“Honey-“ Joyce sat forward, a hand on Buffy’s knee.

“You were right, Mom. So right.” A tear slipped out. “My new roommate showed up this afternoon,” Buffy went on.

Joyce’s hand tightened on her knee. “Is she nice?”

“I don’t know.” More tears spilled over. “She ran out as soon as she met me.” Buffy bit her lip, depression setting in.

“Buffy, I’m confused.” Joyce gripped Buffy’s chin, raising her head and looking into her eyes. “First, you mention a fight we had over three years ago and now you’re crying because you’re new roommate didn’t like you? Honey, please tell me what’s really bothering you.”

“I don’t think we have that much time.” Buffy tried to pull away. Tried to get back some control. It didn’t work. The fingers on her chin tightened in warning. Joyce wasn’t going away. “OK. It’s…it’s kind of a long story.”

Joyce chuckled and moved back a little. “You know what they say, honey. Start from the beginning.”

***

Tara gripped the paper cup in her hands and stared at the murky liquid. Why couldn’t life get any better? Last year had been fine. She’d hidden away in her single-occupant room and studied. Tara smiled at the memory. No shouting or hitting. No demands to care for her father and brother. Just the luxury of her books and her magic.

Then the university’s budget crisis had interfered, and she’d lost her work-study job. That’s why Tara had given up the single room. And that, she told herself grimly, was when the real problem – Buffy Summers – had reentered her life.

“More coffee?” A cheerful voice broke into her thoughts.

Glancing up, Tara blushed and shook her head. “No, I’m f-fine.” It was true. Or…it would be. Tara was good at being fine.

The young woman in the Student Union T-shirt was persistent. “You sure? I just brewed this.” She peered into Tara’s cup. “That looks like it’s been there awhile.”

“No, thank you.” Tara forced her shoulders straighter and gave - the nametag said Tina - a small smile.

“Sure.” With a wave of her coffee pot, Tina sauntered away. Tara watched her progress as she bounced from table to table.

The large Student Union was full for a Friday night. She checked the clock. Six thirty. Almost time for her to call Willow and her girlfriend about the thing at the Bronze. If only Buffy hadn’t come back to the room first. Damn it. She’d actually been looking forward to getting out and meeting some new people. Her only ‘friends’ were the members of her Wicca group.

Tara wasn’t so sure ‘friends’ was the right word.

This was getting her nowhere. Tara took one last sip of her coffee, grimacing at the cold, bitter taste and stood up. She had to find a place to stay for the night. The library was open late. And, since it was the weekend, there wouldn’t be too much trouble finding a quiet corner to hide in.

The last rays of sunshine had already faded when she exited the union building. Right now, the campus looked deserted. Only a few students traversed the paths.

“Hey, wait up!” a voice shouted behind her.

Tara continued to walk, head bowed and book bag banging against her hip.

“Hey!” the voice said again and a hand grabbed her arm.

Flinching from the contact, Tara tried to jerk away. Her eyes flew up to check out her attacker.

The coffee girl from the union?

Tara relaxed slightly but continued to try to move away from the hand on her arm.

“Sorry.” Tina smiled reassuringly and stepped back. She put her hands in the air in a gesture of apology. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Th-that’s OK,” Tara lied. “I j-just didn’t hear y-you behind me.”  Smiling at Tina, she spoke slowly, hoping to stave off more stuttering. “I’m headed to the library. What about you?”

Her response caused Tina’s eyes to widen. “The library? On a Friday night?” A slender arm wrapped around Tara’s waist, and Tina moved them off the path and across the grass in the quad. “I’ve got some friends at one of the houses on Greek Row. They’re having a little party.”

“P-party?” Tara froze. “I…I don’t d-do parties.” Parties meant people and talking. No parties.

“Hey, we don’t bite.” Tina’s teeth flashed in the dim lighting of the pathway. “Come on. I promise it’ll be fun.”

Tara nibbled on her lip but let Tina resume their trek. Maybe it would be OK. Maybe, just this once, things would work out. “Which house?” she managed to ask.

“Tri Sigma.” Tina leaned her head down, resting it on Tara’s. It was too close, too soon.

Squirming, Tara tried to put some distance between them.

Tina’s grip tightened.

That was it. Tara jerked against the arm holding her but couldn’t break free. “Let me go!”

“That isn’t part of the plan.” Wrenching her around, Tina smiled down at her. “Too bad for the others you got cold feet. Good for me, though. I won’t have to share.”

Tara screamed when Tina’s face shift into something out of a horror movie. She dug her feet into the ground, fighting to get away. She wasn’t strong enough. Breath coming in hoarse gasps, Tara searched her memory for something, anything…An image of her mother and their attic room surfaced. Yes. That would work.

She stopped struggling and began to chant. Power sluggishly filled her channels. Opening herself more fully to the magical energies around her, Tara pulled in more. Her skin tingled with the influx.

“Hey, did one of you ask for an escort home?” a voice asked out of the darkness.

The interruption shattered Tara’s concentration. The magic surrounding her splintered and then grounded in a rush. Dizzy and shaking from the strain, she stared at the slender brunette twirling a piece of wood in her hand.

“Slayer.” Tina seemed to know her. She threw Tara to the ground and rushed forward with an inhuman growl. She managed three steps.

With a casual flick of her wrist, the other girl tossed the wood. It flew through the air like a bullet, lodging in Tina’s chest. Seconds later, Tina disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

Tara stared at the pile of ash on the ground. It was the only thing left of Tina.

“You OK?” a husky voice asked.

Jerking in surprise, Tara moved her eyes from the ground. Warm brown eyes regarded her quizzically. “Uh…I th-think s-so,” she stuttered. Although, her answer might have been a slight exaggeration. Tara’s head ached from the rapid power influx and the fine tremors running through her body.

The other girl must have noticed them, too. One of her eyebrows went up and she smirked. “Glad to hear it. For a second there, I thought you might be a little shaken up, Blondie.”

Despite the truth in those words, Tara found herself smiling. “Maybe ju-just a little.”

“No big. Here.” A hand gripped her forearm. “Let me help you up.”

Tara didn’t even have time to get her feet under her. With one easy tug, she was upright and swaying slightly. “Do you w-work out a l-lot?” She tilted her head, chancing a look at her savior’s aura. Her shaky knees got less reliable. A narrow golden shimmer surrounded the other girl, and raw power pulsed underneath. “Wh-what are you?” she gasped.

“Ah…” Confidence crumbling, the brunette took a step back. “What do you mean?” The tone had bravado written all over it. The body language backed that up, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed deep in pockets.

“Faith!” Another figure darted toward them.

Faith? Tara frowned. The name was familiar. Where…?

Everything got clearer when the panting form skidded to a stop next to them. “Hey, you said you were going to swing by Greek Row. There was nothing about chatting up other women.”

The giggle escaped before Tara could stop it. “D-don’t worry, Willow. Faith was j-just hel-helping me with my d-date.”

“Your date?” Willow looked at Tara and suddenly seemed to realize who she was. “Tara. Hi!” Bouncing on her toes and peering through the rapidly darkening area, she asked, “I don’t see anyone. Did he run away? Faith can be a little…scary sometimes.”

And magnificent, Tara thought, remembering Faith and the accuracy of her throw. “My date is…” She pointed at the ashes.

“Oh.” Willow didn’t seem too surprised or even confused by the remains. “That happens a lot around here, I’m afraid. Remember? I told you it wasn’t safe.” Then she frowned, eyes going intent.

“Something wrong, Red?” Tara edged away from Faith as she scanned the area. “I don’t feel anything.”

Green eyes locked on Tara’s blue ones.

“I do.” Willow pointed a slender finger at Tara. “She’s a witch.”

***

Taking a deep breath, Buffy nodded. “The beginning…that would be my very first day at Hemery.” She could see the brightly polished tiles of the hallway, newly painted lockers lining the walls. “I’d met the captain of the cheerleading squad. My bimbo act wasn’t enough to impress her. I needed something more dramatic. More…A-list.”

“You came home that day on top of the world. I take it you found your victim?” Joyce’s voice was soft and encouraging.

The support helped. The lump in Buffy’s throat shrank a little, letting her voice smooth out and grow in volume. “Yeah. I did. There was this sophomore, a blonde girl who dressed like a reject from the sixties. Tara Maclay. Kind of like Willow…only worse. She stuttered really bad and she was so shy, she hid behind her hair if you even looked at her.”

Tara was still like that.

“Marcie pointed her out and told me to show them I could ‘fit in,’ so I did. I pretended to want to be her friend.” Just like the Willow she’d met during her first day at Sunnydale High, Tara had been shocked at the attention. Shocked and grateful. “We hung out together at lunch, and I asked her to meet me before fifth period to talk about maybe going to the mall after school.”

The lump was back. God, she been such a bitch.

“That’s it?” Joyce leaned back a little and looked at her closely. “I get a visit from my missing daughter over that?”

“I wish,” Buffy mumbled. “That was just the tip of the iceberg.”

Neither of them said anything while Buffy shifted, drawing both legs up on the couch and turning so she faced Joyce.

When she resumed her story, Buffy’s voice was soft and pained. “I told the cheerleading girls what I’d done. That’s why I was so happy that day. It got me a spot with the ‘in’ crowd.” She rubbed her eyes tiredly. “When the time came to meet Tara…All the squad was there. The boyfriends and the groupies, too.”

“Oh, Buffy. You didn’t.” Buffy couldn’t even look at her mother at that.

“I did,” Buffy confirmed. “Right there in the middle of the mall, with all those people just waiting and listening, I told her it had all been a joke. Why would _I_ want to do anything with _her_?”

Those wide, hurt blue eyes welling with tears filled Buffy’s mind.

“It was terrible, Mom.” Her own tears spilled over. “She looked…” There weren’t any words to describe the pain in Tara’s eyes. “I…I just laughed.” Buffy’s throat contracted at the remembered sound. “And I didn’t stop there. For the rest of the year, I kept at her. Nothing on that scale. Just small stuff: tripping her in the hallway, ‘accidentally’ bumping her in the cafeteria so she spilled her tray, faking a stutter when she was around...”

Wanting to find that hole she’d mentioned earlier, Buffy scrubbed her hands over her face.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you got Called, honey.” Arms wrapped around Buffy, and Joyce kissed the side of her head. “It got you out of all of that.”

Not ready to forgive herself, Buffy shrugged.

“Buffy!” Joyce rocked them. “Answer this: would you do that again?”

Wrenching away, Buffy stared at her mother in horror. “No!”

“Then I don’t see the problem.” Joyce patted Buffy’s knee. “I’m sure if you talk to Tara, you can explain that you’ve changed.”

Buffy rubbed the fingers of her right hand over her temple. “Mom, she doesn’t want to hear it. She tore out of the room tonight when she saw me. In the morning, she wants to tell the school she won’t room with me. I’m not going to get the chance to explain anything.”

Her depressed mumble got a loving smile from Joyce. “Come on, honey. I’ll fix us some dinner and we’ll make a battle plan. You may not be my little girl anymore, but I’m still here to help with all those bumps and scrapes.”

***

“Is that ‘Willow’ for bitch or am I about to get fried with a fireball?” Faith edged away from Tara, hands held palm out in a placating gesture.

The actions dredged a smile from Tara. Willow, though, didn’t appear to find it funny. Her brows nearly met over her intent green eyes. “She could have taken care of that vampire and his entire family, Faith. Without breaking a sweat.”

Tara mentally agreed…assuming she could have remembered the right spell and recited it without stuttering. “I w-wouldn’t hur-hurt you.” Forcing herself _not_ to duck her head, Tara met Willow’s eyes. “I only use my m-magic for good.”

“Huh,” Faith grunted, relaxing her stance. “Gotta be careful around here. Just ask Red. It’s like the vamps and demons got a sense for witches. You’ll be at the top of their dinner menu if you don’t pay attention.

Tara didn’t point out that she’d been in Sunnydale for over a year now without attracting the wrong kind of crowd. “Are you a witch, too, Willow?” Maybe she was hiding her talents too much. If she’d been paying attention to auras earlier, she would have known from the beginning.

“Sort of.” Willow’s teeth brightened the night as she grinned. “I have some books, and I try to work on the spells. So far, though, I’m only good for levitating pencils.”

Moving closer, Faith wrapped an arm around Willow. “Good for way more than that, Red.”

Even in the dark, Tara could see Willow’s blush. “You’re se-self taught?” She definitely needed to keep her magical eyes open. It was incredibly difficult to learn the intricacies of spell casting from just a book – not to mention dangerous.

“Well, Giles did show me a few things,” Willow answered.

“Giles?” How many witches were there in the tiny town of Sunnydale?

Eyes widening, Willow looked up at Faith. “He’s…ah…he was the librarian at our high school. You know, big on books and knowing things. That’s what librarians do. And…he was really good at his job. I mean, I went in-“

Her voice cut off abruptly when Faith kissed her. When they broke apart, Tara covered her mouth with her hand to hide a smile. Willow looked dazed, and she was sure the color on Willow’s cheeks wasn’t from embarrassment this time.

“Come on, Blondie. Me and Red are on the way to the Bronze. I think we got a lot to talk about.” Faith used the arm around Willow’s waist to steer them around. “We’ll be your escort.”

The Bronze. Willow and Faith. _Buffy_ “No…no, that’s OK. I was on m-my way to the lib-brary. We can talk t-tomorrow.” Or never. That would be Tara’s first choice. “Can you ju-just take me there?”


	4. Chapter 4

Tara should have known better. “The library? On a Friday? Even Red ain’t that dedicated.” Faith tilted her head and looked at her. “You trying to get rid of us or something?”

“N-no,” Tara stuttered. Not exactly. “I…I ha-have a paper I need to w-work on.” She took a few steps toward the path. “It’s OK. I c-can get there myself.”

“Right. ‘Cause you did so well the first time.” Faith pulled Willow along as she jogged up next to Tara. “I’m not the best at judging people, but even I know you’re hiding something. What is it, Blondie? Better you tell me. You don’t, I’ll unleash Red.”

Glancing at Willow, Tara flinched from the intent, almost commanding expression. She’d caved to that look once before. It was unlikely she’d do better a second time. “I was go-going to spend the n-night there,” Tara mumbled.

“Spend the night?” Willow grabbed her arm. “Why? You just moved in with Buffy.”

That was the problem. Tara didn’t want to say that, though. Willow was Buffy’s friend. “I’m mo-moving out in the morning.” The words popped out, and Tara closed her eyes with a moan. She hadn’t meant to say that.

“Moving out?” They could probably hear Willow’s voice on all the way in Los Angeles. “You just moved in.” Her grip on Tara’s arm tightened until her fingers dug painfully into Tara’s skin. “What did Buffy do?”

“Red.” Faith pried the fingers off Tara’s arm. “You’re gonna leave dents with that grip”

Rubbing at the spot Willow had grabbed, Tara stayed silent.

Unfortunately, Willow didn’t accept her non-answer. Arms over her chest, Willow glared at Tara, brows almost meeting over her eyes. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “What did Buffy do?” she demanded.

“She didn’t do anything.” Tara shrugged mental shoulders and gave in. Part of her wanted this. Wanted to finally tell someone about the abuse at the hands of Hemery’s golden girl.

“I ain’t buying that, Blondie.” Faith stood just behind Willow, hands resting on her girlfriend’s shoulders. “’Nothing’ don’t make someone hide in a library instead of sleeping in their own bed.”

Trying again, Tara said softly, “She didn’t do anything today. It was in high school.” Her eyes closed and her shoulder drooped forward. High school. They should have called it was it really was: hell.

Willow’s groan surprised her. “Frilly heck. She mentioned something about this once.”

“Huh?” Faith seemed as confused as Tara. “What did B do?”

“Think Cordy and the Cordettes, Faith.” Was Willow speaking English? “She said she was like them, mean and petty.”

Faith snorted. “That’s a newsflash? She’s still like that.”

Her suspicions were right, then. Buffy hadn’t changed. Tara wrapped her arms around her stomach. The library was a good idea. So was looking for another roommate.

One of Willow’s hands shot out and she pinched Faith in the side.

“Ow!” Jumping back, Faith rubbed her side. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Buffy is not like that, and you know it.” Now her glare turned on Faith. Tara was gratified to see the other girl wilt beneath the heat. “She’s so not a Cordy clone anymore.”

Lip stuck out in a pout, Faith looked around the clearing – anywhere except at Willow.

“Faith,” Willow warned, one slender finger pointing at her girlfriend.

“OK. B’s not like Cordy.” The admission seemed torn out of a very reluctant Faith. “She just pushes my buttons, that’s all.”

Nodding firmly, Willow turned back to Tara. “What did she do, Tara?” Her voice was gentler this time. “Believe me; I’ve been a victim of the cheerleaders of the world. I’ll understand.”

It was like her encouragement opened the floodgates. Tears spilled from Tara’s eyes as she stuttered and sobbed her way through the story. “She m-made my life mis-miserable. All those p-people in the mall. L-laughing at me,” Tara related the incident in the mall. “And…and th-then, she just kept pushing m-me. In the hall-hallway and the cafeteria. The school ch-charged me for my b-books because they got ripped from me dr-dropping them all the time.”

Now, four years later, her tale sounded pathetic and unimportant. However, Tara remembered the way she’d thrown up before going to school. Just the sight of Buffy in the hallway had sent her running for cover.

A pair of arms enveloped Tara. “She isn’t like that anymore,” Willow promised softly. “I’d never be friends with someone like that, Tara. I put up with that from the time I was in Kindergarten. No one deserves that. As a matter of fact, Buffy helped me get over it; helped me find my confidence.”

Wiping her eyes, Tara met Willow’s sincere gaze. She wanted to believe Willow. She wanted to let go of the past.

However, the harsh sound of mocking laughter echoed in her mind.

“Please t-take me to the li-library,” Tara said softly.

***

The lasagna was excellent. Buffy concentrated on eating – and on avoiding any more talk about Tara.

“That’s the last of it, honey. Once you finish, we’re talking.” Joyce started clearing the table.

Suddenly, the food wasn’t so good anymore. It sat heavily in Buffy’s stomach, and she swallowed against the bile burning her throat. “Can we not and say we did?” she pleaded. “I mean, she’s moving out in the morning. That’s what she told me. I might not ever see her again.”

She looked away from the disappointed hazel eyes that Joyce turned her way.

“Or we could talk,” Buffy mumbled, playing with her silverware.

“That’s my little girl.” Patting Buffy’s shoulder, Joyce cleaned off the dirty dishes. “Always making the right choices. You can point that out to Tara the next time you see her.”

Buffy laughed reluctantly. “How do you do that, Mom?” She looked up at Joyce, who was leaning against the sink. “Make everything OK?”

“I wish I could make it OK, Buffy.” Walking closer, Joyce sat down in a chair and gripped Buffy’s hand. “I can’t, though. I can only help you come up with ways to deal with your decisions.”

Joyce’s hand was a lifeline. Hanging onto it, Buffy closed her eyes. “I can’t convince Tara of anything unless I talk to her, but I don’t even know where she is or if she’ll come back to the room.”

“Did she leave anything there tonight?” Joyce stroked her thumb soothingly over the back of Buffy’s hand. “If so, she’ll have to come back to pack up again.”

“I…I hadn’t thought of that.” Who was she kidding? Once she’d figured out who Tara was, she hadn’t been thinking at all. Buffy tried to remember if there was anything of Tara’s in the room. “Maybe. A couple of pictures. I only really saw her books and a back pack.”

Buffy’s frown grew. Where were the rest of Tara’s things?

“I guess she might have been meaning to move the rest of her stuff in tomorrow.” That meant Tara _didn’t_ have to go back to their room. Buffy slumped. This wasn’t getting them anywhere.

“Honey, go back to the dorm and wait. See if Tara comes back. Then talk to her.” Joyce’s voice was insistent. “I know you can’t tell her about the Slaying, but…Can you use character witnesses?”

Opening her eyes, Buffy shrugged. “You mean get Will and Xander to tell Tara what a great friend I am?” She rolled her eyes. “That’ll work, Mom.” Then another thought hit her. “I haven’t told them about Tara. I might not get a good reference once they know what I did.” Her stomach cramped.

“Come on, honey. Enough with the Pity Poor Buffy routine.” Joyce pulled her hand away and tapped Buffy’s knee. “Those two are your biggest fans. Do you really think something you did three years ago, in another life, would make them turn on you?”

When she put it like that, it did sound crazy. “No,” Buffy mumbled.

“Then lets not get carried away,” Joyce insisted. 

“Is that all I can do?” It didn’t sound like much. “I don’t think Tara will care what Will and Xander say. I know I wouldn’t…if Tara had done all that to me.”

Tilting her head, Joyce appeared to think hard. “It’s a start, honey. Maybe it might convince Tara to not move out. Once she spends time with you, she’ll realize you aren’t going to torment or tease her anymore.”

“I’ll try.” Buffy wasn’t convinced it would work. However, it was the only plan she had. Glancing at the clock, she groaned. “Shit.”

Joyce cleared her throat warningly.

“Mo-om,” Buffy whined. She was in college now. It wasn’t like she’d said anything really bad.

Sandy eyebrows rose over narrowed hazel eyes.

Slumping, Buffy uttered a soft, “Sorry,” before explaining the outburst. “I’m supposed to meet the gang at the Bronze in about ten minutes.” She straightened and smiled grimly. “It’s time to start Phase One in our plan – admitting my sins to the Scoobies.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Good luck, honey.” Joyce leaned forward and hugged Buffy’s shoulders before standing. “Call me and let me know how things go.” Then she looked at Buffy with an almost wistful expression. “Unless…”

Getting to her feet, Buffy wondered what was wrong. “Unless what, Mom?”

“Well,” Joyce turned away and started industriously wiping down the counters. “I just thought it might be nice if you spent the night here and we went out to breakfast. You know…like old times.”

Old times? Buffy rolled her eyes. Had more time passed than she realized? “Mom, I’ve only been in college since August. I don’t think ‘Old Times’ apply.” It did sound fun, though. A lot more fun than an empty dorm room or an angry roommate. “It’s a date. I’ll spill my dark secrets to the gang and come back here.”

Joyce didn’t turn around when she answered, “Perfect. I’ll look forward to it.” Her voice was choked and nasally. She sniffed and cleared her throat, dishrag never ceasing its movements. “Go on, honey. You don’t want to be late.”

“Bye, Mom. See you later.” Smiling, Buffy trotted out of the kitchen and then the front door. It was a clear night, and stars littered the sky. Despite the dread balled up in her stomach, Buffy whistled as she jogged through Sunnydale. Her mom was right. Willow and Xander would be OK. Faith? Well, Faith would be whatever Willow was.

As Buffy passed Restfield, she hesitated at the front gates. She hadn’t patrolled yet. Worse, she hadn’t made arrangements with Faith to cover for her. Damn. She was already late for the Bronze, and she was the one who’d moved up their meeting time.

Patrol after the Scooby meeting, Buffy promised herself. If things didn’t go the way her mom thought, vampire bashing would be good therapy.

Picking up the pace, Buffy resumed her trek to the Bronze. Thanks to the new time slot, the dimly lit bar and dance club was quiet. Buffy paused at the top of the stairs and peered around. She didn’t see Willow and Faith. Good. She could get a table and decide how to tell them about Tara. Making her way down the stairs, Buffy ordered drinks for the gang and took up residence at their favorite table.

***

“Come on, Tara. Please go to the Bronze with us.” Willow tried the same look she’d used earlier.

This time, though, Tara had confirmation that Buffy was her roommate and the memories from high school to help her. “No.” Although the refusal was soft, it was firm. She wasn’t going to the bar. “The lib-library. Please.”

Wilting, Willow nodded. “OK. Maybe next time.”

Didn’t she ever give up? Lips twitching slightly, Tara agreed, “Maybe next time.” Looping her bag over her shoulder, she started across the quadrangle. Faith and Willow scrambled in her wake.

They walked in silence for a while. Then Faith cleared her throat, and Tara saw her glancing her way. “Uh…T?” Faith grunted slightly at the elbow Willow dug into her side. “I mean, Tara?”

“Yes?” Tara couldn’t stop the smile. Watching Willow and Faith was better than a TV sitcom.

“You didn’t answer Red earlier. If you got all that mojo, why didn’t you dust that vamp?” Faith asked.

Her smile faded. Tara stared at her boots as she walked. “I…I c-couldn’t re-remember the spell,” she admitted. “By the ti-time, I did, you were th-there.”

“That’s so cool!” Willow enthused.

Tara’s head came up in shock.

Bouncing along next to Faith, Willow grinned. “Not the forgetting part. That’s bad. I mean, Faith was there, so no badness happened. I meant the spell part. I don’t even know any spells to forget. What kind of spell were you going to try?”

There was a lag when Willow finished as Tara blinked trying to figure out what Willow had asked amid the flood of words.

“Red wants to know how you were going to kill the vamp,” Faith translated helpfully.

“Oh.” Tara didn’t remember anything like that from Willow’s comments. “I was g-going to try a sun-sunlight spell.” She saw Willow’s mouth open and hurried on to avoid another confusing speech. “My mother t-taught it to me a lo-long time ago.” So long ago, Tara wasn’t sure she could have gotten it to work.

She flinched when Faith’s hand landed on her shoulder.

“Whoa! Easy, T.” Faith pulled back, both hands raised in silent apology. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” She stepped away, giving Tara some space.

Tara could feel Faith’s intent look, though, like a physical touch. The blush faded from her cheeks, and she knew all the color had fled. Biting her lip, she glanced up.

Faith’s brown eyes caught hers. She didn’t say anything, though. She merely looked, and Tara read the promise in that steady gaze. For now, Faith would let her overreaction go. Soon, though…Faith would be back with questions.

The library was up ahead. Tara picked up the pace, needing to get inside and away from Faith and Willow. Nearly sagging with relief, she set her foot on steps leading to the front doors.

“Not so fast, T.” Tara froze at Faith’s husky command.

Her foot slipped off the step as she turned. “Wh-what?” Tara stuttered, peering up at the other girl through her bangs. She wiped her sweating palms on her skirt.

Arms crossed over her chest, Faith answered, “When you head back to the dorms, you give us a call.”

As if they’d choreographed the maneuver, Willow dug a piece of paper out of her backpack and held it out to Tara.

Reluctantly, Tara took it and peered at the number scrawled across it. “Th-this isn’t the number you le-left earlier.”

“Nah. Don’t know why Red even gave you that one. Ain’t like we’re ever at home.” Faith’s dimples teased a smile from Tara. “Always got the cell phone with me, though.” The grin (and the dimples) disappeared. “No more picking up fangy dates, T. Me and Red…hell, even B, if she ain’t out with her newest boy toy, can get you where you need to be.”

Stuffing the paper into her pocket, Tara edged up the first step. “OK.” She hoped the answer sounded convincing, even though she had no intention of using the escort service. “Thanks for the help tonight.” Running up the stairs, Tara fled for the peace and quiet of the library.

***

The Bronze started filling up as Buffy sipped her second soft drink. Where was Willow? Buffy didn’t spare a thought for Faith. She was always late; not Willow. If anything, she was always annoyingly on time.

Her senses tingled.

Buffy began scanning the bar automatically then slumped back into her previous pose when the feeling finally registered. The missing couple had arrived. That just left Anya and Xander. Smiling wryly, Buffy wondered if they would even make it for the meeting or if they were staying home and in bed.

“Yo, B.” Faith dropped onto the couch and bumped Buffy’s shoulder. “You look like you been here a while. Mrs. S didn’t toss you out again, did she?”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy nodded. “Yes, Faith. She did. Mom kicked me out of the house, which I don’t live in anymore. I don’t know where I’ll go now. It’s not like I have a dorm room to go to or anything.” She had a dorm room. Could she actually go there if Tara was back?

Snorting, Faith took a swig from her root beer bottle. “Bitch.”

It might have degenerated into their usual exchange of insults if Willow hadn’t interrupted. “What did you do to Tara?” she demanded bluntly. “We saw her on the way here. She freaked when we mentioned joining us.” Steely green eyes bore into Buffy. “You knew she would. You told me she wouldn’t come because you would be here.”

Buffy squirmed under that look. She tried to delay answering by peering around the Bronze. “Have either of you seen Xander or Anya?” she mumbled.

“Buffy…” Willow’s voice warned her there would be consequences if she stalled anymore.

She had to try one last time. “Wiiiill,” Buffy whined. “It’s bad. I don’t want to tell it more than once. Can’t we wait? I mean, they’re only…” she checked her watch and groaned, “forty minutes late. They might still make it.”

“B, we all know the Demon ain’t letting X-man out of bed for this.” Faith turned on the couch so she faced Buffy. “What the fuck did you do? You’re sweatin’ like a whore in Church.”

“’k…not real sure what that means, Faith.” Buffy gave up and set her glass on the table. “If it’s got something to do with wanting to throw up at just the thought of the way you used to be, then yep, that’s me.” Tracing a pattern in the condensation on the glass, she continued. “You remember me talking about the way I was before I was Called. The whole Cordy Clone thing.”

Two nods answered her.

Buffy didn’t know how to make this sound anything other than terrible. “Tara played Willow to my Cordy.”

“You made fun of her clothes?” Buffy might have laughed at Willow’s question if the situation hadn’t been so serious.

She shook her head. “Worse.” Risking a glance up, Buffy met her best friend’s wary look.

“How worse?” Those green eyes never wavered.

The urge to hide was back. Ignoring the lure of the dark space under the table, Buffy spilled her secret. Recounting the same story she’d told Joyce, she kept her eyes locked on Willow’s.

As she talked, the bright green darkened with pain and blurred with tears.

Buffy forced the words out. “I…I think that’s why I knew I couldn’t be part of the Cordette’s, Will. I saw the way she treated you that first day. It was me, and I hated it. I hated the way she hurt you.”

“Was I some kind of project, Buffy?” Willow asked. She sniffed and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Some way to make yourself feel better?”

All the sugary soda had been a bad idea. Swallowing to keep it inside and not all over the table, Buffy nodded jerkily. “At first, maybe.”

Willow jumped up, Faith on her feet only seconds later.

“Don’t.” Panicking, Buffy stood and held out an imploring hand. “Will, please. Just…let me explain. It was just at first. Then I got to know you, and now you’re my best friend.” She tried to grin; it felt wrong. Twisted. “I’m not that person anymore.”

“Maybe not.” Willow’s words weren’t reassuring. She backed away from the table, clutching Faith’s hand.

Buffy started to follow then stopped when a slim hand snapped up.

Face pale, Willow took another step. “I…I need some time, Buffy. You should have told me. How could you not have told me what you did?”

Before Buffy could marshal a defense, Faith and Willow had disappeared into the dancing crowd.


	6. Chapter 6

Buffy sat very still after her two friends disappeared through the crowd. Willow left. She hadn’t even given her a chance to explain. Grabbing her soft drink, Buffy downed it in a few deep gulps. Too bad it wasn’t something stronger than carbonated sugar water.

The table shuddered suddenly, the ice cubes in the empty glass rattling together.

“God, I’m sorry. Did I spill your drink? I can get you a refill.” White teeth flashed in the strobing lights of the club.

Buffy dropped her eyes back to the table.

“Hey.” A hand appeared in her field of vision. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about the drink,” Buffy told the young man staring worriedly at her. She stood up. Staying was a bad idea. She needed to go…beat up on some vampires.

The young man moved in front of her, and Buffy might have simply shoved past him if he hadn’t seemed so concerned. “I recognize that look. Ex-boyfriend? Loan shark?” Leaning against the table, he cocked his head at her. “You can tell me. I won’t repeat a word; I promise.”

The need for a little vamp therapy still pulsed through her, but Buffy found herself smiling at her erstwhile savior. “Look, I appreciate the offer.” Her smile widened. “Maybe not the soda bath…”

A deep chuckle cut through the music. “I normally save that for a second meeting. I guess I’m off my game tonight.” He held out a hand. “Parker Abrams, normal guy and college student. You?”

Taking the proffered hand, she replied, “Buffy Summers, also a college student.” Thinking about the lack of ‘normal’ in her life erased the smile from Buffy’s face. “I’m sorry. If you’re looking for company, keep looking. I’d just make us both depressed.” She dropped his hand and stepped back. “I’ve got to go. Maybe I’ll see you around, Parker Abrams.”

“Wait! You can’t go out like this.” Parker shoved away from the table and trotted after her. “Buffy, come on. At least let me walk you back to the dorms. Sunnydale isn’t safe, you know. We have lots of muggers and wild dogs.”

Buffy’s stride hitched at his comment. She barely held back a bitter response on the state of Sunnydale’s nightlife. “I’ll be fine. I…I work out a lot, and I can take care of myself.” As soon as she said that, Buffy realized she wasn’t armed. There wasn’t even a stake in her jacket pocket.

Sliding an arm around Buffy’s waist, Parker shrugged. “Wouldn’t matter if you were a black belt, Buffy. Pretty girls should always have an escort.” He glanced at her and winked. “Since no one else has volunteered, I’ll just have to step in.”

The arm – and the implied comfort – convinced Buffy to stay silent and let Parker walk with her to the door. She stopped him there, though. “Stay, please,” she pleaded. “I…” Telling him he was in more danger from the vampires than she was didn’t seem like a good plan. “I need some alone time to think about that ex,” Buffy finally explained.

He didn’t want to listen. Thick eyebrows drawing together in a frown, Parker started to protest.

“Good night.” Going up on her toes, Buffy brushed her lips across his cheek and ducked out the door before he could argue. Once outside, she took off at top speed, fleeing Parker and the memory of Willow’s back as she walked away.

***

As Tara had expected, the library was almost deserted. She headed straight for the upper floors, where only graduate students and professors normally roamed. Large tables and study carrels dotted the spaces between rows of shelves.

Peering around, Tara didn’t see anyone else. Perfect. With a tired sigh, she trudged to the most remote corner and dumped her bag onto the floor. Sitting in the hard wooden chair, Tara leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

The incessant hum of the overhead lights echoed in her head.

Tara shifted. Placing her arms on the table, she buried her head in them.

The sound died away, and Tara smiled in her warm and artificially dark ‘room.’ Her breathing evened out, and she drifted…

A loud bang rocketed her out of her chair. Heart pounding, she looked frantically around the library. Wearing a sheepish grin, a male student waved the book he’d just picked up from the floor. Feeling weak and shaky from the abrupt movements, Tara dropped back into the chair. This wasn’t working. Sleep was impossible.

She reached into her bag and brought out her journal. Writing about her day always helped her relax. Tara read over the last few sentences of her earlier entry before beginning another paragraph.

_Well, Mama. It was **that** Buffy Summers. I couldn’t believe it, but…It was. She looked exactly the same._

The pen came off the paper, and Tara chewed on the cap. Was that really right? Buffy hadn’t looked like a cheerleader anymore. She’d been wearing faded jeans and tennis shoes.

_Maybe I was just expecting her to be the same, Mama. I can’t actually remember now. I was so mad. And scared._

Even while simply writing in her journal, Tara felt compelled to tell the truth. Her mother had insisted on it.

_The only good thing today was meeting Willow and Faith. Willow is Buffy’s friend, but she’s really nice. And funny. She babbles when she talks, like a tape on fast forward. Her girlfriend had the strangest aura. All golden and really, really powerful._

More teeth marks dented the abused plastic cap as Tara stared sightlessly at her journal. Faith…Faith had never answered her about what she was.

_I don’t think she’s a demon, Mama. She was too nice and good for that. And Willow is a witch. She’s been teaching herself. I wish I could work with her. I haven’t trained with anyone since…since you died. I probably won’t get the chance, though. I’m going to the Housing people in the morning. I can’t be Buffy’s roommate. I can’t._

Her eyes burned with tears and exhaustion. Tossing the pen onto the table, Tara rubbed her hands over her eyes. “Goddess, I have to sleep.” She left the journal out in case sleep still eluded her, and tried her arm bed again.

This time, she drifted off without interruption.

***

Since she was using Slayer speed, Buffy kept to the shadows and cemeteries on her way home. Panting, she burst into the house without a thought to what was proper. “Mom!”

The noise of her entrance, combined with her yell, got an almost immediate response. “Honey? What’s wrong?” Joyce’s head popped up over the back of the couch.

All of Buffy’s emotional control shattered. “Willow…she…she left, Mom. I told her about Tara, and she left.” The words were garbled by the sobs trying to escape from her throat. Buffy stared at her mother through scalding tears. “What am I going to do, Mom? Willow hates me.”

***

“Looks like you’re workin’ real hard there, T.” Tara’s head snapped up at Faith’s wry comment. “Thought you said you had a paper or some shit to do.”

Oops. Mind still fuzzy from sleep, Tara scrambled for a response.

She was too slow. “Don’t hurt yourself. Did you really think we bought the ‘working on a paper’ thing anyway?” Faith snorted. “I only look dumb.”

Rubbing her crusted and tired eyes, Tara mumbled, “I didn’t think you’d care.”

Faith’s silence grew glacial.

“I guess you do, though.” Tara flicked a glance up at Faith’s angry brown eyes. “Why? You just met me. I’m not a friend. I’m…I’m only Buffy’s roommate.”

“Not for long, T. In fact, we’re moving you out right now.” Faith unlooped Tara’s bag from the back of the chair and slung it over her head. “Until B gets her head out of her ass, you can room with me and Red.”

Between the surprise and the slew of nicknames, Tara struggled to make sense of the words. “You want me to move in with you and Willow?” Her voice rose a little, seeming to echo in the vast library. Wait a minute… “Where _is_ Willow? And does she know you’re here?”

Faith’s sigh suggested she was tired of talking. “Red knows. I took her home after the thing at the Bronze.” She hesitated, looking everywhere except at Tara. “She’s kinda upset at B right now and I didn’t want her hauling ass through town like that.”

If Tara slumped any farther in the chair, she slither right out and underneath the table. It was a very tempting thought. “Why…why is W-Willow upset at B-Buffy?” The stutter increased as the tension grew.

“Come on, Blondie. You don’t even _look_ dumb. Don’t play the blonde card. B’s got that one all locked up.” Faith held out a hand. “Let’s motor. Leavin’ Red alone when she’s pissed ain’t always a good thing. Last time, she tried this spell…” Breaking off, Faith grimaced. “Like I said, it ain’t a good idea for her to be by herself.”

Reluctantly, Tara took the proffered hand. “You don’t have to invite me to your place, Faith. I c-can go back to the do-dorm.” It wasn’t like she didn’t have enough magic to keep Buffy away from her.

“Grab your notebook and let’s go.” Faith didn’t seem impressed with Tara’s comment. “You want to go back to the dorm in the morning, I won’t argue.”

Tara relaxed slightly.

“Red, though… She ain’t as reasonable as me. You might want to get your thoughts all together before the big blow up.” A slow grin, bracketed by dimples, left Tara in no doubt that Faith didn’t think she could win against Willow.  “We’ll swing by the dorm and pick up your things. If B’s there, I’ll do the packing and you can stay downstairs.”

Too tired to fight anymore, Tara plodded after Faith. With each step, her feet felt lighter, and a smile tried to sneak out. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Tara felt the tension return as Faith opened the door to Stevenson Hall. Buffy might be in their room.

“Relax, T.” Faith must have sensed her fear. A warm hand dropped onto Tara’s shoulder. “B ain’t here.”

“H-how do you kn-know?” Stuttering from the stress, Tara ducked away from the reassuring hand and plodded up the stairs.

In a move that left Tara even more drained of energy, Faith ran by, taking the stairs three at a time. “Trust me, Blondie,” she called from the next landing, “if B was here, I’d know. It’s a gift.” She grinned and her dimples teased an answering smile from Tara. “Now, when we get in the room, you park yourself on the bed while I pack. Things might get wadded up, but maybe you won’t be ready to pass out on the walk home.”

Flushing at the accurate assessment of her condition, Tara silently followed Faith to the room. She watched numbly as Faith used her own key and unlocked the door.

“See? No B.” Faith waved at the empty room. “Now, sit your ass down and start pointing to the stuff you can’t live without.” Her wink belied the gruffness of her words as she rummaged in Buffy’s closet and unearthed a duffle bag.

“Um…It’s ju-just the stuff in the dr-dresser and the skirts in the closet.” Tara dropped onto her never-used bed.

Faith yanked open drawers. True to her word, clothes and underwear went into the bag with absolutely no regard for wrinkles. She finished clearing out the single drawer Tara had filled. “You ain’t got a lot.”

Tara shook her head. “No.” She didn’t elaborate.

“You and me, T. We’re a lot alike,” Faith announced.  Ignoring Tara’s wide-eyed astonishment, she moved to the closet and pulled the skirts from the hangers. “When I jumped off the train in Sunnydale, I had one bag. Everything I owned.” Her voice trailed off, and Tara saw her shoulders slump for a second.

There was an implied vulnerability in that pose. It called out to Tara. “Y-you were run-running from something?” she stuttered. She couldn’t imagine the brash and confident Faith afraid of anything.

“You could say that, T.” Faith’s shoulders snapped back, as if she were forcibly reminding herself to keep them that way. “Life sucked in Boston.” She didn’t continue, and Tara watched her stare across the room with a vacant look in her eyes. After a minute, Faith blinked. “Fuck. Sorry about that. Don’t think about that shit very often.”

“I do.” Tara hunched forward. “I th-think about it all the time.” That was the problem. She couldn’t shake the memories.

The duffel landed on the bed next to her, startling Tara into looking up.

“Then you need to stop,” Faith announced bracingly. “Come on. Take a look around to make sure I got everything before we head home. It gets too much later and Red is gonna be real unhappy.”

She made it sound like the end of the world, and Tara couldn’t stop her giggle. “A fate to be avoided at all costs?”

“You know it, T. Red’s got a temper to match her hair.” Faith stuffed her hands in her back pockets and rocked on her heels while Tara peered into the closet and drawers. “We good to go?”

“We’re good.” Tara grabbed the bag and looped it across her shoulders on the opposite side of her book bag. At Faith’s sardonic look, though, she yanked it back off and thrust it at Faith. “I’m n-not a little kid. I c-can ca-carry my own luggage.”

Faith’s only response was a wide smile as she spun and strode out the door.

“It wasn’t heavy. It wouldn’t hurt me to carry my own clothes,” Tara mumbled.

“I heard that, Blondie. Get the lead out. My girl’s waiting for us.” Faith’s voice wafted into the room.

Making an unseen face at her tormentor, Tara slammed and locked the door.  “Ready, Faith.” Tara bared her teeth in a wide, patently false, smile. “Willow won’t have to w-wait much longer.”

“‘Bout damn time.” Faith flung open the door to the stairwell. She set a quick pace, and Tara jogged down the stairs trying to keep up. “How long you been doing the magic stuff, T?”

At least Faith had waited until they were out of the dorm and hustling across the Quad.  “As l-long as I can remember,” Tara answered softly. “Mama m-made sure I kn-knew the basics.” They’d hidden in the attic and poured over spell books and potions. Tara still heard her mother’s voice explaining the need for balance in nature and magic, and her stern warnings against using her power for everyday tasks.

“I ain’t asking to make you feel pressured.” Tara bit back a smile at Faith’s transparent start. “But you think you could maybe teach Red some of that? She’s real smart. Too smart, sometimes. She kinda thinks she’s better than the books.”

A shiver worked its way down Tara’s spine. “You mean she makes up her own spells?” That was bad. She hadn’t felt any dark magic in Willow’s aura, but Tara hadn’t been looking for any, either. A novice witch branching out on her own… It was like opening a door for evil.

“A couple of times.” Faith reached out and grabbed Tara’s arm to steady her as she stumbled. “Nothing big.”

Faith’s eyes slid to the side as she said that. She was lying. “I’d be happy to h-help if Wil-Willow wants me to.” If she didn’t, Tara couldn’t force her to learn the right way to spellcast.

“Wicked. Thanks, Blondie.” Faith’s smile was so bright, Tara realized she must have really been worried about Willow.

“You’re welcome.” Still trotting to stay close to Faith, Tara followed the other girl through a narrow, gated entrance to a large apartment complex. A few more minutes - and three very long flights of stairs later - they stopped in front of a door.

Faith dug out her keys, but the door swung open to reveal an extremely disheveled Willow. “Hey, I thought you guys got lost. I was about to call Giles and start looking for you.” Wiping away a tear, Willow stepped back and waved for them to go inside.

***

Buffy balled up the tissue in her hand and sniffed.

“I’m sure you’re overreacting, honey. Give Willow a chance to calm down and then talk to her.” Joyce wrapped her arm more tightly around Buffy and stroked a hand over Buffy’s left arm.

“Are you sure?” Buffy wasn’t. She wasn’t sure at all.

A kiss pressed against her head. “I’m sure, honey. You and Willow have been through too much for this to be more than a bump in the road.”

It was exactly what Buffy _wanted_ to believe. “Thanks, Mom.” A yawn caught her off guard. “Do you mind if I skip the rest of the movie and go to bed?” Not like either of them had actually watched any of the movie to this point.

“Go on, Buffy. I think I might have an early night, too.” Joyce’s deep breath and sigh were loud against the sounds of the television. “I’ve spent too many late nights watching reruns and tearjerkers.”

Standing up, Buffy held out her hand. “I’m not that far away, Mom. You could always come visit.”

“I didn’t want to intrude, honey. You’re in college now; I’d just be in the way.” Joyce’s arm snaked around Buffy’s back again as they moved to the stairs.

“In the way of what? My demon ex-roommate trying to take over my body? Or me scaring my new roommate the second she walks in the door?” Buffy tilted her head and looked up at Joyce. “I haven’t had a social life since we left LA, Mom. Even as College Buffy, I’m still the Slayer. I do classes, I attempt to do homework, and I slay. End of story. Some good old fashioned Mom Time would be a welcome change.”

They walked up the stairs in silence. At Buffy’s door, Joyce turned and wrapped her in a hug. “Buffy Time sounds good to me, too.” Her voice was husky and choked, and she turned and moved away so quickly Buffy didn’t have a chance to respond. “Good night, honey. Remember our doughnut run in the morning.”

***

“Now, remember, honey. Just be yourself with Tara. I’m sure once she sees you aren’t the same Buffy from Hemery, she’ll change her mind about leaving.” Joyce smiled reassuringly.

“Thanks, Mom.” Returning the smile, Buffy leaned across the Jeep and hugged Joyce before leaping to the sidewalk. “I’ll give it a try.” With a final wave, she jogged up to the dorm. The Jeep’s engine roared behind her as she yanked open the door to Stevenson Hall and sprinted up the stairs. “Tara’s still here. Tara’s still here,” Buffy chanted with each huge stride.

The hallway was full of people in a hurry. Buffy mumbled a few good mornings as she dodged the bodies clogging her path. She paused outside her dorm room’s door. “I’m not that person anymore.” The key slipped into the lock; the handle turned. Buffy stepped inside…

…and stared at the empty bed and lack of personal items on Tara’s side of the room.  She was gone.

Numbly, Buffy wandered over and sat on her bed. Tara was gone. She hadn’t even given her a chance to explain or make up for what had happened in Los Angeles. The silence in the room was stifling.

She couldn’t stay here. Not now. Buffy jumped up. She had to get out of here.

Almost running, Buffy fled the room and the residence hall. She needed to talk to Willow. Her footsteps slowed. No, she couldn’t do that. Willow was mad at her. Willow had walked away, too, just like Tara.

Home?  

No. Her mom was at the gallery.

“Giles,” Buffy said out loud. She could go talk to Giles. She hadn’t seen him in a few days. Picking up her pace again, she jogged down the sidewalk. A long talk and some sparring. That would help.

“Buffy?” The voice didn’t register at first. “Buffy! Stop!” The shout finally penetrated and she skidded to a halt.  Panting, Parker Abrams ran up. “I saw you come out of Stevenson. Is something wrong? The meeting with the loan shark not go so well?”

It took Buffy a few seconds to make the connection to their conversation from last night. “Something like that.” Buffy didn’t tell him that she was actually the loan shark and Tara the customer afraid of getting her legs broken. “Look, I’m sorry…”

“Why? You didn’t do anything.” Parker smiled. “Are you late for class or is this part of your daily workout?”

 _Neither_ , Buffy wanted to say. _This is me running away from my problems, like always_. “No. No classes. I had some free time. Thought I’d hit the gym.”

“I’m sure your muscles could handle a day off,” he said. Holding out his hand, Parker pleaded. “Why don’t we go for a walk? I know a great place to have lunch later, and I’m a really good listener, too.”

Buffy hesitated. She really needed to talk to Giles. Pound on the heavy bag.

“Please?” Parker added softly.

His hand was warm as she reached out and took it. “Where to, Parker Abrams?”


	8. Chapter 8

“It’s a beautiful day,” Parker said. “How about we just walk? Do a little talking?”

Talking was the last thing Buffy wanted to do. She had too many secrets, too many things to hide. “The walk sounds perfect.” The only way the talking would work was if… “So tell me about Parker Abrams. What do you do when you aren’t out rescuing people from loans sharks or exes?”

He hadn’t let go of Buffy’s hand. In fact, his thumb made tiny circles on the back of it as they ambled along the path through the Quad. “Actually, you’re my first rescue,” Parker confessed. “You seem to bring out the knight in shining armor in me, Buffy Summers.”

“Really?” Buffy glanced up, smiling slightly. “I’m not normally the needs to be saved type.” _In fact, I usually do the saving_ , she continued in her head. “It feels nice not to fight my own battles for once.”

“Look!” Parker pointed the finger of his free hand at her. “Was that a smile? A real smile?”

Giggling, Buffy ducked her head. “No. No way. You must be seeing things.”

Silence answered her. Then, in a puzzled voice, Parker said, “I didn’t imagine the smile, but… Buffy, what’s this on your neck?”

Shit. Stiffening, Buffy fought the urge to yank the collar of her shirt over the scar Parker had seen. “Oh, that.” _That’s just the bite my vampire boyfriend gave me after the Mayor of Sunnydale poisoned him._

Parker stopped walking, his hand tightening around hers. “Buffy?” He obviously wasn’t going to leave it alone.

“I…uh…I got bitten.” Understatement. With what she hoped was a convincingly casual smile, Buffy explained, “By a puppy.”

“Must have been a really angry puppy. You have a scar.” Parker stroked a finger over the mark, and Buffy shivered at the light, almost tickling touch.

Needing to change the subject, Buffy tried to turn the tables. “Now that you’ve seen my scars…do I get to see yours?” She nearly rolled her eyes; that was way too flirty for a first stroll across campus.

From his grin, Parker didn’t see it that way. “I don’t have anything like that, Buffy.” The grin got wider. “All of my scars are psychological.”

This was better. Buffy relaxed now that the conversation wasn’t focused on her. “Oooh, inner scars. Those are the best kind.” She bumped his hip and then resumed their walk. “So what is it?” Emulating his fishing expedition from the previous night, she asked, “Bad break up? Crazy ex-girlfriend?” Enjoying their banter, Buffy kept trying to guess at Parker’s scars. “I know. You’re a CIA agent, posing as a college student.”

“Not quite.” Parker wasn’t smiling.

Getting a bad feeling about his answer, Buffy sobered, too. “Parker?” Had she offended him somehow?

“My father…” She saw him swallow hard. “My father died recently.”

“Oh my God, Parker.” Buffy came to an abrupt halt and spun to face him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up.” Bowing her head, she mumbled, “Bad, bad Buffy.” She should go to Giles’. At least there, she didn’t have to worry about hurting anything except the heavy bag and her hands.

As she pulled away, Parker gripped her arm. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m OK to talk about it now.” He peered intently into her eyes. “Really.”

Buffy slowly accepted his assurances. “I can’t imagine losing a parent. Well, I lost my dad a long time ago. To his secretary,” she said bitterly. “But Mom…” Shivering, Buffy flinched at just the thought.

“Yeah. It’s not easy.” Buffy wrapped an arm around Parker as he went on, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, though. This isn’t some big ploy for sympathy. I’m not like that.”

He smiled again, and Buffy couldn’t resist returning it. He had a nice smile.

“Don’t you just hate guys that are all ‘I’m dark and brooding, so give me love?’” Parker led them off the path and sat on a shaded bench.

“I don’t think I’ve met anyone like that,” Buffy lied. The scar on her neck itched suddenly. “I’ve been too busy to do much dating.” That wasn’t exactly untrue. Slaying and a normal social life didn’t go together. And Angel…well, moonlit picnics in cemeteries didn’t count in Buffy’s book.

A light breeze rustled the leaves and branches overhead.

Parker turned slowly, drawing his right knee up onto the bench and facing Buffy. “You give any thought to changing that? Maybe making time in your schedule for a date now and then?”

“Not until now,” Buffy answered. Was he leaning toward her? Watching closely, Buffy decided he was. Parker got closer and closer. Buffy felt him press into her side, as his head tilted, and his lips hovered above hers for a long second. “I think it’s time I made time for dating.”

She shifted her weight, moving in to Parker’s soft kiss.

***

Smoothing her sweating hands over her skirt, Tara stepped out of the bedroom. “G-good morning,” she said softly.

“Hey, T. Thought you were gonna hide in there all day.” Faith looked up from the dagger she was sharpening. “You sleep OK?”

“Yes.” Tara didn’t think the Goddess or her mother would object to the white lie. She’d slept better in the bed than in the library last night, after all. “What are you d-doing?” Pointing at the knife, she asked, “Why do you h-have a d-dagger?”

Faith cocked her head and frowned. “You forget your date already?” She held up the weapon, twirling the pommel in her hand. “These come in handy when I need to step in.”

“Uh…” Willow had mentioned Sunnydale wasn’t safe, but they had so many problems Faith carried _weapons_? “Are you a c-cop?” Didn’t police officers carry guns, instead of knives?

A husky chuckle let her know she was off base with her question. “Definitely not a cop, T. Special security, maybe.” Faith hopped up and shoved the dagger into a leather sheath resting on an end table. “But that ain’t a big deal right now. You want some breakfast?”

Off balance from the rapid topic change, Tara nodded dazedly. “Sure. B-breakfast sounds good.”

“Hope you don’t mind company. I’m starving.” Moving quickly, Faith crossed the living room to the small galley kitchen. “Bacon and eggs, OK? I’m pretty good with the simple stuff. Anything else and things get crispy.”

“I c-can make my own br-breakfast, Faith,” Tara protested.

Brown eyes narrowed at her.

“And I w-won’t even burn down the kitchen.” _So there_ , she added inside. “If I’m going to be s-staying here then I’m not a guest. I n-need to earn my keep.”

Faith cracked several eggs against the countertop and dumped the yolks and whites into a bowl. “Next time. Grab a seat and enjoy your one day of pamperin’.”

Tara did as ordered. Climbing onto a stool at the pass-through, she watched Faith whisk the bowl of eggs so rapidly that they turned to yellow froth. “How is Wil-Willow this morning?”

The whisk slowed for a second before picking up speed again. “Red’s dealing.” Faith didn’t seem to want to talk about her girlfriend.

Unfortunately for her, Tara needed to know more. She didn’t want to stay here if her presence was going to cause problems between Faith and Willow. “She didn’t look like she was ‘dealing’ last night. She’d been crying.” A lot, from the red-rimmed eyes and swollen nose Willow had sported when they’d gotten to the apartment. “She and B-Buffy are good fr-friends?” Tara struggled to make sense of that.

“Yeah, she and B have been through a lot.” Still not looking up, Faith left the egg mixture sitting on the counter and pulled a rasher of bacon out of the refrigerator. The strips lined the skillet she placed on the stove.

“Wh-what about you and Buffy?” If she hadn’t been watching closely, Tara wouldn’t have seen Faith’s mouth tighten at the question. “Y-You don’t seem to like her ve-very much.”

Turning on the burner, Faith finally met her eyes. “Look, T, you can’t lump me and B together like you can her and Red. I ain’t been in Sunnydale that long, and, well… Let’s just say B and me had some issues.”

Those issues hadn’t been the same ones _she’d_ had with Buffy; Tara was sure of that. She sat quietly while Faith flipped the frying bacon pieces. Faith had been nice to her – more than nice. She’d _trusted_ her with information Tara didn’t think she shared with many people. Tara wasn’t going to put her in the middle of her problems with Buffy.

After a few minutes, though, Faith picked up the conversation. “Before Red, I was a real ‘want, take, have’ kinda girl. B got all up in my shit when I went after Red. Made sure I knew if I hurt her, she’d make sure I regretted it.”

“Bu-Buffy threatened you?” Tara stared at Faith for a second and then burst into giggles.

Faith’s dimples popped out at the sound. “You laugh, T, but the Pastel Princess ain’t as helpless as she looks.” Using hot dog tongs, Faith removed the bacon from the skillet and placed them on a plate and covered them with paper towel before pouring the well-beaten eggs into the still-sizzling skillet.

“I kn-know she’s not,” Tara muttered, all amusement draining out of her. Buffy wasn’t helpless at all.

Looking up, Faith said quietly, “Me and B have a truce, T. We leave each other alone so Red don’t feel like a wishbone, but… I ain’t never seen her do anything like what she told us last night.”

“You wa-want me to give her another chance?” Tara stuttered. She could feel her shoulders hunch. She couldn’t do that. Not even for Faith.

Soft footsteps sounded in the kitchen, and then Faith’s hand tucked Tara’s hair behind her ear. “T,” Tara looked up at a very serious Faith, “I would never do that. You gotta make up your own mind. If that means you hate B’s guts, it’s your call.”


	9. Chapter 9

Staring into Faith’s intense brown eyes, Tara slowly nodded. “Th-thank you.” She’d half expected Faith and Willow to use the generosity with their living arrangements to attempt to convince her that Buffy wasn’t like she’d been in high school.

“Welcome.” Faith’s grin seemed to say she didn’t consider her ‘non-interference’ policy to be a big deal. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Tara was making more of the situation that it called for. “Now, grab us some drinks. Breakfast’s about ready.” She poured the scrambled eggs out of the skillet, dividing them unequally onto two plates.

“Faith, I can’t eat that much!” The mound of eggs on the first plate resembled a fluffy yellow mountain. Tara paused in the middle of the kitchen. “Give yourself some of those.”

A pained sigh answered Tara’s command. “Get…the…drinks,” Faith enunciated slowly.

Feet stomping on the linoleum, Tara finished her journey and pulled open the refrigerator door. She was surprised none of the food inside came spewing out. “I wouldn’t w-want your grocery bill,” she said as she retrieved a gallon-jug of orange juice and a carton of milk. “Do you and Wil-Willow have people over a lot?”

“Fuck no. Red don’t trust me around other people,” Faith snorted.

Remembering a comment along those lines from her first conversation with Willow, Tara smiled. “Why not? Do you scare people off with your bad girl act?”

Eyes narrowed, Faith scowled in response. “It ain’t an act.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Tara agreed with mock solemnity. “You really are a mean and evil b-bitch.” She carried the drinks to the counter and set them down. “Look how you tr-treated me. I’m t-terrified of you. R-Really.”

***

“Why don’t we go somewhere else?” Parker said softly. “Making out in the Quad seems…I don’t know. Uncool?”

 Buffy then noticed they were drawing some attention, Buffy noticed. People stared at them as they walked by and Buffy was sure she heard one, “Get a room,” comment.

“Sure. Sorry.” Wiping the back of her right hand over her mouth, Buffy stood up. She found it hard to believe that she was doing this out in the open with a guy she had just met.

Parker followed her up and stood so they were pressed together. “Hey, that wasn’t a complaint. I didn’t think you’d want to get a reputation, though. Being a freshman is bad enough without having to deal with rumors.”

He was right. Stepping away, Buffy tried to smile. “I’ve had enough of people talking about me to last a lifetime. Thanks for protecting my honor.” Smiling got easier as Parker wrapped an arm around her and started them down the path. She didn’t remember smiling since this whole thing with Tara had started. “Where are we going?”

“How about I introduce you to some friends of mine? Nice guys, I promise.” They left the path and started across the grass, heading past the library. “I pledged Wolf House; we’re having a big party tonight. We can check in on the set up, say hello to my pledge brothers, and find someplace to do lunch.”

“Sure.” What else did she have to do? It wasn’t like she had any friends to spend time with right now. Buffy leaned her head on Parker’s shoulder during the walk to Greek Row. “You don’t seem like a frat boy.”

His arm shifted. “You mean because I haven’t had a drink the entire time we’ve been walking?”

Buffy giggled. “Something like that. And you didn’t take advantage of me.” She looked up at him, seeing him watching her. “You could have,” she confessed shyly. “Most men would have.”

“I’m not most men, Buffy.” Parker lightly poked the tip of her nose with his finger. “Don’t just lump me in with the knuckle-draggers, OK?” Letting her go, he jogged up a set of cracked concrete stairs. “Welcome to Wolfhouse.” With a flourish, he yanked open the door.

“Where the men howl at the moon and the women run for their lives?” Buffy joked. She stepped around him and stopped just inside the doorway. A quartet of pool players glanced up their game. A battered table and empty couches took up the rest of the main room.

Parker scowled good-naturedly. “I don’t howl. I’m one of the good guys. Geeze. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Skipping ahead, Buffy called out, “Over and over until it sinks in. Remember that ex?” she reminded him. “Well, he wasn’t a good guy.” Far, far from it. “I may need a while to make the adjustment.”

“As long as it takes, Buffy.” Parker chased after her and pulled her into his arms. “There’s no hurry. This isn’t a race. We’ll go slow, if that’s what you want.”

A laugh badly disguised as a cough drove them apart. “Parker, you gonna introduce us to your new girl?”

Parker never looked away from Buffy. “Guys, this is Buffy. Buffy, the guys.”

Slowly turning in Parker’s arms, Buffy waved at the four young men. “Hi.”

“Hi, Buffy.” They managed a ragged chorus with their welcome. The tallest moved forward and held out a hand. “Chad. Parker and I pledged together.”

“Nice to meet you.” Buffy repeated the handshaking ceremony with Paul, Mike, and Sam.

Although he’d mentioned spending time with his friends when they’d been on campus, Parker didn’t seem too interested in that. Buffy felt him attempting to push her toward the stairs at the back of the room.

She held her ground. “Slow, remember?” Buffy asked pleadingly.

Parker stiffened for a second and then nodded. “Slow,” he agreed. When he pushed again, it was to maneuver them both to one of the leather couches.

***

Sighting along the cue, Buffy reminded herself _not_ to shove the wooden tool through the ball. Slayer strength and pool playing mixed badly. With a gentle motion, she pulled back on the cue and snapped it forward. “Shit!” She hadn’t broken the striped ball – just sent it careening off the table.

“I got it.” Chad chased it down and set it back on the table.

Buffy handed her cue to Mike. “Here. I give up. I’m not meant to play this game.” In the last thirty minutes, she’d managed to knock a dozen balls onto the floor and had actually broken Chad’s custom-made pool cue.

No one disagreed with her comment.

“Don’t worry about it, Buffy. I didn’t bring you here for a pool tournament.” Parker put his cue away on the wall rack. “Come upstairs while I grab a few things. Then we’ll head out for some lunch.”

“Hey, can we…” Paul started to say.

Parker was quick to interrupt. “No. I am not taking you bottomless pits out for food.” He guided Buffy toward the stairs with a hand in the small of her back. “My room’s the first one on the right. It isn’t locked. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be right there. Just give me a minute alone with these guys.”

“Sure.” Feeling every eye in the room on her, Buffy slowly climbed the stairs. The quiet from the main room was stilted, as if Parker and his friends were waiting for her to get out of earshot.

It was a relief to open the door to Parker’s room and step inside. Buffy sighed and rolled her head to loosen the taut muscles of her neck before doing a little scouting. The room was cluttered but cleaner than she’d expected. Weren’t all college students supposed to be slobs? Buffy knew her own cleaning skills were suspect.

Unlike Tara. Buffy winced at the memory of Tara’s belongings neatly displayed on the other side of their dorm room.

Tara had moved out. Maybe her next new roommate would be different.

Buffy wandered to the desk on the far side of the room. A cork bulletin board hung on the wall over the cluttered surface. Photos, notes, and mementos were pinned haphazardly to the board. Brushing her fingers over the items, Buffy zeroed in on a group shot of Parker and Chad and several other young men. “Pledge Class 127, Wolf House, Fall 1999.”

Everybody in the shot was smiling.

Their smiles reminded Buffy of the photo of her, Willow, and Xander that sat on the nightstand next to her bed. They’d all been smiling, too. Smiling and happy and together.

The urge to run was back. Buffy couldn’t just take off, though. Parker was downstairs, planning on taking her to lunch. Striding across the room, Buffy opened the door and stepped into the hallway. She’d offer Parker a rain check.

As she stood at the top of the stairs, Parker’s voice drifted up. Her Slayer hearing kicked in. “Give it a rest, Chad. It isn’t like I’m not going to make the deadline.”

“The hell you won’t! Look, Parker, the contest ends tomorrow night at midnight, and we’re way behind in the points. Why are you dragging this out?” Chad sounded angry, and Buffy took a step back, not wanting to interrupt the conversation. “I know you. You’re like magic with the chicks. I bet you had this newest one eating out of your hand in minutes.”

Newest one? Were they talking about _her_? The hair on the back of Buffy’s neck prickled and she automatically smoothed a hand over it.

Parker laughed. It wasn’t the warm and friendly laugh Buffy had heard in the Quad. “She was so into me we nearly got it on in public. Buffy’s a firecracker.”

“And you brought her back here?” Chad shouted.

The words faded in and out as Buffy fought off the nausea swirling in her stomach

She glimpsed Chad as he strode into her line of sight at the bottom of the stairs. “We’re counting on you, brother. No more going slow and taking your time. You need to score and move on. Buffy only brings our point total to a hundred and eighty. Last year’s pledges scored two hundred and forty by the Halloween Bash.”

Score…point total…Buffy… The words echoed in her head.

Clapping a hand over her mouth, Buffy bolted back into the room and straight for the trashcan by the desk. When the heaving stopped, she fumbled through the pile of clothing on the floor for something to use to clean up. A T-shirt wiped the clammy sweat from her skin and the traces of vomit from her mouth.

Buffy tossed it back onto the bed and staggered to the window. It slid up with a screech. Staring out into the perfect Southern California afternoon, Buffy shivered and rubbed her arms. 

Footsteps sounded on the stairs – probably Parker’s.

Driven into action, Buffy straddled the windowsill. The two-story drop was the only way out. Dragging her left foot outside, she pushed away from the building and plummeted to the ground.


	10. Chapter 10

Buffy hit the ground and used her momentum to spring into a forward somersault. It didn’t completely offset the impact from the fall; however, she was able to walk away from Wolf House with only twinge in her ankle and a large bruise on her pride.

The bright and sunny day had turned cold for Buffy. She shivered, despite the actual warmth of the day. Head bent and shoulders hunched, she counted her past and recent relationship failures with each step. Right foot, _Tara_. Left foot, _Angel_. _Faith_ _Willow_. The list started over. _Tara_.

This time, though, she didn’t move on.

Instead, images of Tara marched along with her. Tara, her blue eyes wide and filled with tears during the LA mall fiasco. Tara, sitting on the bed in their dorm room, so scared of Buffy that she stuttered on nearly every word.

Buffy’s stride slowed…then immediately picked up. Slamming her feet onto the sidewalk, she glowered. She wasn’t the same person. She _wasn’t_.

Not even the forceful strides beat the memories of Tara away, though. They hung there, right in front of her eyes, clouding her view of the present. She wasn’t that person, she repeated to herself. She couldn’t still be…

Her footfalls softened again. Maybe she was still that person. Buffy moodily considered that. _Angel_. She’d loved him. Or thought she had. Now she wasn’t so sure. He’d been different and forbidden. A Slayer and a vampire.

Her lips twisted into a bitter arc.

They’d been a modern version of Romeo and Juliet. Except Buffy hadn’t loved him enough to join him in death. She’d used him to get what she wanted in the end. Sure, she’d saved the world. That didn’t excuse her whispered “I love you,” and the Judas kiss right before she shoved her sword into Angel’s stomach.

A single tear streaked her face. It was joined with a horde of friends as the next name slipped out, “Willow.”

***

With a low growl, Faith raised her hands with her fingers bent into claws. “Take it back, Blondie.”

Giggling, Tara did the one thing guaranteed to keep her safe – she grabbed Faith’s plate and held it threateningly high over her head.

Faith froze immediately. “Fuck it all, T, that ain’t fair. Put the plate down. Carefully.” The clawed hands were gone, replaced by opened palms. “See? You’re safe.” Her eyes were glued to the eggs that seemed to tremble on the edge of the plate.

“Big, bad Faith. Brought down b-by one little wi-witch and some food.” Having proved her point, Tara returned Faith’s breakfast to the counter.

Faith grumbled – but Tara saw her dimples peeking out. “Next time, witch. I’ll be ready for you next time.” She dropped onto a stool and picked up her fork. “Eat up, T. If you’re too slow, I might be tempted to eat mine _and_ yours. Red says I ain’t got any manners when it comes to food.”

Nibbling at a piece of bacon, Tara said softly, “Let me s-see if I have this straight. You c-can’t live in the dorms or be around other p-people, and you steal food.”

Mouth full of food, Faith simply nodded her agreement.

“And Wi-Willow tr-trusts you to be here with me?” The crunch of Tara’s bacon was loud in the small room.

“Fuck, no.” Faith seemed very sure of that. “She trusts you to kick my ass if I get outta line. Red’s real impressed with you being a witch and all.” The last part was partially garbled as she stuffed a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

***

Tara had just finished washing her breakfast plate when a sharp knock sounded from the front door.

“I got it,” Faith told her. She hopped off the stool and trotted into the living room. “Red musta still been pretty out of it when she went to class this morning. She ain’t forgot her key since we first moved in.”

Tara heard her turn the lock and then the door handle.

“Hey, Red, I’m gonna…” Faith’s voice cut off abruptly.

Alerted by the sudden silence in the other room, Tara hurriedly dried her hands on a tea towel and went to see what had happened.

Faith and another woman stood statue-still on either side of the apartment threshold.

“F-Faith? Is some-something wr-wrong?” The tension was so thick, Tara’s stutter worsened in response.

Remaining frozen, Faith didn’t answer. The older woman, however, seemed to snap out of her trance. Gently moving Faith out of the way, she stepped into the apartment. “Not wrong, exactly. You must be Tara. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

Not sure how to respond to that, Tara ducked her head, feeling her cheeks heat with a blush.  “Ho-how did you h-hear…” she stuttered.

Before she could finish, though, the woman turned to Faith. “I was hoping to talk with you and Willow.”

“She ain’t home yet, Mrs. S.” Faith had turned and was watching the older woman closely. “Her last class don’t get out ‘til one.”

Tara tuned out the rest of her words. Mrs. S? Staring hard at the woman in front of her, she considered the blonde hair, hazel eyes, and Faith’s normal pattern for nicknames. “M-Mrs. S-Summers?” she croaked out. Dear Goddess. It couldn’t be Buffy’s mother.

With a wry smile, Mrs. Summers nodded. “I’m so sorry. I should have introduced myself earlier.”

No. She definitely shouldn’t have. In fact, Tara really wished she didn’t know now. Backing away slowly, she mumbled, “I n-need to fin-finish c-cleaning the k-kitchen.”

Mrs. Summers’ sigh filled the room. “Of course, honey, if it’s that important.” Her hazel eyes darkened as she peered at Tara. “But please come back. I’d like to talk to you, too, please.”

Biting back an instinctive refusal, Tara nodded once before fleeing for the safety of the kitchen.

“What happened last night, Faith? Buffy came home in tears, and she…” Tara cut off the rest of Mrs. Summers’ words by turning on the water in the kitchen sink.

Hands shaking, she squirted more dish soap into the murky, bubble-free water she’d left and watched new foam build. Buffy’s mother. Tara closed her eyes against sudden tears. The look in Mrs. Summers’ eyes… Her own mother had looked like that each and every time she’d been about to apologize.

What did Mrs. Summers have to apologize for? _She_ hadn’t been the one to make Tara’s life miserable. That had been Buffy.

Tara forced her thoughts back to the dishes and utensils.  Even scrubbing each one slowly and carefully and examining them for any leftover crumb or food stain failed to make the task last long enough. Biting her lip, Tara drained the water from the sink. Without the clatter of plates and running water, snippets of conversation drifted in from the living room.

“…didn’t see Buffy,” Willow’s voice said. She must have come home while Tara had been hiding in the kitchen. Sounding defensive, Willow continued. “Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t talk to her because she wasn’t in class.”

Ignoring the shame coiling in her stomach, Tara crept closer to the kitchen doorway and listened intently.

“Willow, honey, calm down.” Tara froze as Mrs. Summers spoke. “I’m not accusing you of kidnapping her or blaming you for anything.” There was a hint of irritation in her voice. “I merely thought you might have realized how badly you may have…overreacted last night and had gone to talk to Buffy.”

***

When she finally ran out of bad relationships and choices to mull over, Buffy stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and blearily peered around. Nothing looked familiar at first.

She spun slowly and looked again.

A dry cleaners. The Sunnydale Credit Union…Buffy snorted. All the inner peps talks and the laundry list of personal failures and she’d only made it to the outskirts of campus – just a few steps from the main co-ed drinking spot. With a sense of the inevitable, Buffy continued walking until Jack’s came into view. Maybe Xander was working and would spot her a drink. She could use one…or a dozen.

Her hopes for drunken forgetfulness were dashed. Xander wasn’t polishing the bar or stacking glasses. The owner was. He waved at her and leaned against the gleaming wood surface. “Your friend isn’t here.”

“That’s OK,” Buffy answered. And it was. Maybe it was actually a good thing that Xander had the night off. Willow had probably told him what had happened. And she didn’t think she could take the disappointment in the eyes of her other good friend. Slumping onto a barstool, she mumbled without much hope, “How about a beer?”

That earned her a long look. Then, with a snort, Jack turned and placed his hand on the tap. “I’ve got a brand new brew. First one’s on the house if you tell me what you think. I got a hell of a deal on this, and I’m thinking of making it the house beer.”

Great. With a wry twist to her lips, Buffy nodded. Why not? From a fuck for points to a barroom guinea pig. “Line ‘em up.”

Jack slid the first chilled mug down the bar. “One at a time,” he warned. “You get too outta hand, I’ll cut you off.” Glaring at a group of college-aged young men in the back, Jack went on. “I’ve already replaced too many tables and chairs since the start of the semester.”

Holding back a comment on his policy of serving anyone – even her – a drink, Buffy picked up the cold, condensation-streaked mug by the handle and raised it to her lips. She was a Slayer. Alcohol wouldn’t affect her, no matter how much she drank.


	11. Chapter 11

The first swallow made Buffy grimace. Wow. That was bitter. Still, she reminded herself, she hadn’t been much of a drinker before today. Maybe she needed practice. Steeling herself against the taste, Buffy took a second sip. Ahhh. That was better. It went down smooth, and Buffy eagerly went back for more. Maybe a few more beers would help her miserable day get better.

“So… Any complaints?” Jack appeared to materialize at her elbow. He pointed at her empty beer mug. “How was it?”

Buffy stared at him for a minute. Jack’s voice seemed to echo weirdly and, for a second, she didn’t understand his question.

Jack frowned at her lack of response. “Damn. If it’s that bad…” Slapping his towel on the bar, he dropped onto the stool next to Buffy’s. “I’ll have to see if I can sell it to one of the fraternities. They go through a lot of booze, and most of them aren’t picky about the quality.”

His intrusion into her personal space had Buffy edging away. However, her mind finally woke up. Ignoring the uneasy feelings skittering along her nerves, she patted Jack’s arm. “Don’t worry, Jack. It’s not that bad. I stopped noticing the bitter taste after the first swallow.” She sighed soundlessly in relief when he got up. Rubbing…more like wiping her hand on her thigh, Buffy continued. “In fact, I’ll have another one, please.”

She idly played with her empty mug while Jack ducked under the bar’s pass-through. Her relaxation was gone in an instant, though, when a crash exploded behind her.  The beer mug shattered in her hands, and Buffy leapt off her stool and spun toward the barroom. Heart pounding, she dropped into a defensive crouch and tensely scanned the room.

Her readiness was pointless. Slowly straightening, Buffy watched a laughing young man climb out of the remains of his chair with the help of his friends.

“Don’t mind them.” Jack thunked another new, full mug on the bar.

Fighting to unclench her hands and breathe normally, Buffy turned to face him.

“They’re regulars.” Casually clearing the shards of Buffy’s first mug from the bar, Jack shook his head. “Every night, I gotta make sure at least one of them is sober enough to give the cabbie directions.”

The echo was back. Buffy rubbed her right temple and climbed back on her seat. Picking up her beer, she tossed back a long drink. This time, there wasn’t even a hint of bitterness in the beer.

With each successive sip, Buffy stopped thinking about Willow and Tara. By the time the mug was empty and Jack put another one in front of her, even the debacle with Parker didn’t matter. Buffy hunched over her new drink and growled softy in pleasure.  

***

Tara felt a surge in energy push against her shielding. Afraid Mrs. Summers’ comment might have triggered a magical response from Willow, she reached out for the ambient energy around her and stepped out in the hall ready to do battle with her new friend to protect the older woman.

The inner battle preparation was wasted.

Willow wasn’t about to level the apartment building. Instead, she stood a half-step behind Faith, holding onto her girlfriend’s arm desperately.

Faith was clearly the aggressor. Hands clenched into fists, she nearly vibrated with anger. Willow’s grip on her was so tight that Tara saw the white pressure marks where her fingers met Faith’s skin.

“Did you have something you wanted to say, Faith?” Mrs. Summers sounded calm, as if Faith wasn’t poised less than a foot away with violence on her mind. “If you do, I’d really like to hear it. I’m feeling very confused and upset at the moment, you know. Last night, Buffy told me she was going to admit everything to you – just like she’d finally done with me.” Mrs. Summers sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I told her you and Willow might be surprised, even horrified…” Her hand dropped away. “But I knew you’d be there for her.”

Watching the tableau with wide eyes, Tara waited for Faith to explode.

Instead, Faith’s combative stance relaxed slightly. “Uh…” She hunched her shoulders and looked away from Buffy’s mother.

Before Faith decided what to say, Willow dragged her to the couch and shoved Faith down. With no apparent embarrassment, she curled up against Faith’s side. “I overreacted,” Willow admitted softly. She stroked a hand up and down Faith’s thigh, and Tara wasn’t sure who the action was intended to calm – Willow or Faith. “What Buffy told us, it was like me and Cordelia all over again. I was big with the wigging, and I made Faith bring me home.”

Biting her lip, Tara realized whatever she had sensed from the kitchen was gone now. She shouldn’t be listening to this, and she certainly didn’t need to maintain her hold on all the magic she’d gathered. Moving slowly, she edged toward the hallway and the privacy of the guest bedroom.

She managed only a few steps.

“Honey, stop sneaking away.” Mrs. Summers’ raised voice stopped Tara in her tracks. Feeling like a deer trapped in the proverbial headlights, she stared at the other woman. “Why don’t you come join us?” came the quiet, yet determined, request.

Not in a million years, Tara said firmly. In her own mind, anyway. In reality, she stayed frozen in place, head shaking in a silent refusal.

Mrs. Summers didn’t acknowledge her unspoken “no.” She gently patted the empty spot next to her on the loveseat. “Please, Tara. I think we all need to clear the air about Buffy and Hemery and find a way to move on from the past.”

Although there wasn’t even a hint of censure in Mrs. Summers’ voice, Tara flushed and ducked her head at her comment. She _had_ been focused on Hemery and the past since meeting Buffy in the dorm room. Her head dropped lower as she realized she was responsible for the damage to Willow’s friendship with Buffy, too. None of this would have happened if she and Buffy hadn’t become roommates.

Reluctantly returning to the living room, Tara perched nervously next to Mrs. Summers.

Her actions earned a warm and approving smile from her seatmate.  “Thank you.” Mrs. Summers lightly touched Tara’s hand before turning to Faith and Willow. “Now, who wants to start?”

Tara glanced up. Faith and Willow were both examining the carpet intently.

“Wonderful,” Mrs. Summers said with forced cheerfulness. “I’m glad no one jumped in. I actually wanted to go first.”

She had everyone’s attention. Tara shifted in her seat so her back rested against the armrest and watched as Mrs. Summers’ smile faded.

Tucking some hair behind her ear, Mrs. Summers settled back into the loveseat. “This will be a review for you, Willow,” she finally said. She looked at Faith and then Tara. “When Buffy started at Hemery, Hank and I were well on the way to a divorce.”

The words rolled over Tara. She tried not to drown in them. Divorce. Fights at home. A family breaking apart… The story wasn’t entirely unexpected. After all, Tara knew very well the secrets families could hide. However, she simply couldn’t reconcile the image of Buffy that Mrs. Summers described with the cruel and calculating girl she had experienced.

When Mrs. Summers fell silent, Tara cleared her throat. Was it time to add _her_ side of the story? Her palms grew damp against the fabric of the loveseat.

“Buffy told me most of that.” Willow beat Tara to it.

“Then why did you walk out on her last night?” Mrs. Summers wasted no time in questioning Willow on her actions.

Wishing she knew exactly what had happened at the Bronze the previous night, Tara stared at her hands and waited for Willow to answer.

“Red didn’t walk out!” Faith exclaimed. She might have said more if Willow hadn’t slapped a hand over her mouth.

Blithely ignoring the angry glare she was receiving over the top of her hand, Willow said, “I was upset, yes. We left the Bronze without Buffy, yes. But I didn’t walk out like you think.” The more Willow talked, the faster the words flowed. “She tome me what she did to Tara. And, even though I knew she’d been like Cordy before you moved here, I didn’t _know_ she’d been like her. Not like that.”

Mrs. Summers’ deep breath seemed loud in the silence left as Willow’s voice faded. “Willow…” She stopped for a second. When she restarted, it was clear from the strain in her voice that what she said wasn’t easy for her. “Tara, honey, I know you only remember Buffy from Hemery. What she told me last night, what she did to you, I understand why you can’t see how much Buffy has changed.”

The tears in Mrs. Summers’ eyes had Tara huddling in on herself. That look. It was the same one her _own_ mother had worn whenever she’d thought she’d failed to protect Tara.

She sagged in relief when that pained regard moved to Willow and Faith.

“I don’t understand what you did, Willow,” Mrs. Summers continued. “You and Buffy have been best friends since we moved here. The two of you have been through so much together. You’ve helped her build a new life, and she trusts you enough to confide all of her secrets. Even this one.” She paused, and Tara heard her swallowed heavily. “When Buffy came home last night, she was scared of the way you’d react and she didn’t want to tell you the truth. I encouraged her to go to you, to talk to you. I assured her you would understand and that you’d help her show Tara she wasn’t that horrible person from Hemery anymore. Was I wrong to do that, Willow?”

***

The row of empty mugs shone dully in the lighting over the bar. Reaching out, Buffy traced the edge of the one nearest her. It was pretty. Shiny. She smiled and rubbed harder.

Responding to the force of her action, the mug toppled over with a crash.

Buffy jumped back with a cry at the loud sound. “Bad mug,” she mumbled softly. “Bad mug.” Glaring at it, she got comfortable on the stool again and waved a hand at Jack. “More beer.”


	12. Chapter 12

Hunched over the mug, Buffy grunted. “Empty,” she lamented. Picking it up, she tried licking some of the moisture from the inside. Her tongue wasn’t long enough. Growling in frustration, she slammed the mug onto the bar.

Shards of glass flew everywhere, and Buffy whimpered as one of them embedded itself into her palm. Blood slicked her hand and wrist immediately.

“Here. This’ll help,” Jack said and held out a towel.

Buffy stared at him in confusion. Slowly, she reached out her injured hand, and Jack pressed the white cotton against the deep cut.

Giving her a concerned look, Jack stepped closer. “You OK? Maybe you should take it easy on that beer. I don’t want to have to call you a cab, too. My brother mentioned you a couple of times, and you’re a different story than those frat boys.”

Irritated at the continued buzz of his voice, Buffy clutched the towel over the still oozing cut and ordered curtly, “More beer.”

***

Willow’s sharp gasp filled the room. Glancing rapidly between the three women, Tara remained very still. This wasn’t her business – no matter what Mrs. Summers said.

“I…I didn’t mean to hurt Buffy,” Willow whispered. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “She just surprised me.” Holding out a pleading hand, and ignoring the way Faith’s arms tightened around her, she begged Mrs. Summers, “Please don’t think I did it on purpose.”

Holding her breath along with Willow, Tara waited for Mrs. Summers’ response.

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose, Willow,” Mrs. Summers said quietly.

Tara sagged in relief and saw Willow start to smile tremulously.

“Look at it from Buffy’s perspective, though, honey,” Mrs. Summers continued.

Willow’s smile disappeared.

Driving her point home in a soft and reasonable voice, Mrs. Summers said, “She confessed something terrible, Willow. Something she _trusted_ you to hear and consider and judge based on all of the wonderful things she’s accomplished here.”

Tara couldn’t even _look_ at anyone. The words were clearly _not_ directed at her. They so easily could have been, though. They _should_ have been. Ducking her head again, Tara realized she had only seen Buffy as she had been in the past. She’d never, not for a second, considered that time could have changed even Buffy’s personality.

Mrs. Summers wasn’t finished, though. As Tara peered through her hair at a softly sobbing Willow, the gentle yet devastating rebuke went on. “As if the seeming loss of her best friend wasn’t enough, her sister Slay…” Mrs. Summers faltered for a second, and Tara saw all three women stare at her for a moment.

Blushing at their regard, she shrank farther into the couch. Looking away, she wondered what she’d done now.

“What I meant was,” Mrs. Summers tried again, “that, despite the problems you two sometimes have, Faith, I know Buffy thinks of you as her sister.”

For the first time since she had come charging to Tara’s rescue, Faith seemed less than confident. Shifting uncomfortably under Willow, Faith said, “I didn’t do nothing, Mrs. S. Red wanted to come home. You want me to let her walk back from the Bronze after dark…alone?”

“Oh, Faith.” Mrs. Summers’ sigh dripped disappointment.

Tara glanced across the couch – then away again immediately. She _never_ wanted that sad, pained expression turned her way.

Neither did Faith, apparently. “Sorry,” she mumbled into the back of Willow’s head.

“I’m not the one who needs your apology, honey.” Mrs. Summers shifted on the couch, reaching for the cordless phone handset on the end table next to her. “I think there is someone missing from this meeting, don’t you, girls?”

***

The loud, shrill sound coming from her pocket caused Buffy to jump, and the beer she’d been about to drink spilled down the front of her shirt and onto the bar. Growling, she wiped at the sticky, wet material clinging to her chest.

It didn’t help much.

Giving up on trying to get rid of the liquid with her hands, Buffy bent her head and sucked the beer-soaked collar of her shirt into her mouth. “Good,” she mumbled.

Then her eyes fell on the puddle on the bar. Moving quickly, Buffy pressed her lips to the wood and lapped at the beer. “Beer good,” Buffy announced happily.

She was too busy drinking to notice that her cell phone had stopped ringing.

***

“She’s not answering, Mrs. Summers,” Willow said softly. “I bet she doesn’t want to talk to me.” Clutching the phone tightly, she returned to her seat in Faith’s lap.

Mrs. Summers didn’t look happy, either. “Buffy _wanted_ to talk to you, Willow. You _and_ Tara. It’s why she went back to campus this morning.” Getting up from the couch, she wandered over to stand in front of the living room window. “It’s not like her to not answer her phone.”

“B’s a big girl, Mrs. S.” Faith seemed hesitant to say anything. Tara watched her drum her fingers on Willow’s arm. “I bet she went to Jeeves’ place to let off some steam.”

Jeeves? Tara wanted to ask who (or what) that was. She didn’t, though. Mrs. Summers turned to face them again, and she looked worried. “Under normal situations, honey, I’d think so, too. However, this is anything but normal. Could you…Willow, will you call Rupert and see if Buffy is there with him?”

The emotions suddenly swirling suddenly in the room engulfed Tara. Biting her lip, she watched Willow punch in a number and hold the phone to her ear. The wait seemed to take forever. “Hello, Giles? Hi. Um…it’s Willow.”

The reply was inaudible. Willow’s blush, though, was immediate.

“Sorry. I know you know who I am.” Wiggling in Faith’s lap, Willow kept babbling. “Mrs. Summers is here with me and Faith. Oh, Tara’s here, too.”

Mrs. Summers took a step toward Willow at the same time Faith tapped a finger gently on Willow’s lips.

Willow took a deep breath and smiled an embarrassed apology. “We were wondering if Buffy was there training.”

Now Tara heard a deep voice rumbling out of the phone’s earpiece.

“Oh. OK. Well, if you see her, could you tell her to call? I really need to talk to her. Bye, Giles.” Willow disconnected the call. “Buffy isn’t there,” she announced unnecessarily.

“You think she mighta gone back to the dorm, Red? To wait for you or T?” Faith kissed Willow’s cheek. She took the phone out of Willow’s and dialed. “Here. See if she answers.”

They all watched Willow intently. Finally, Willow lowered the phone. “No answer. Where would she have gone?”

***

The noise behind Buffy grew louder. She tossed back the last of her beer and slid unsteadily off the barstool. The noise needed to stop. “Stop!” Buffy commanded the group of young men shoving and grunting at each other.

It worked. They stopped and turned to stare at Buffy.

“Good.” Ignoring the gawkers, Buffy pointed at Jack who was bussing a table. “More beer.”

He smiled uncomfortably. “Sure. I can get you another. Just not the same stuff you’ve _been_ drinking.” Picking up the bin of dirty glasses, Jack walked slowly back toward the bar. “My brother stopped by a little while ago and took the last few kegs.” He sighed and dropped the heavy load on the bar’s surface. “Too bad, too. It’s been my best seller tonight.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed at the unintelligible flood of words. To help Jack understand what she wanted (and to get him to be quiet), she picked her mug off the bar and shoved it at him. “Fill.”

Looking resigned, Jack reached for the glass and dropped it into the bin with the rest of the empties. He retrieved a clean mug and stuck it under the tap.

A surge in the shouting behind Buffy preceded a loud crash.

“Son of a bitch!” Jack looked toward the ruckus. Buffy’s beer mug remained only half-filled under the spigot as he raced under the pass-through. “Hey! Break it up!”

Something else crashed.

“I didn’t mean the furniture, you idiot!” Jack’s voice roared over a ragged cheer.

Buffy ignored it all. She stared at the partially filled mug and licked her lips. “More beer,” she mumbled before looking furtively around.

Jack was wading through the group of drunken brawlers. He wouldn’t notice anything. And the few other drinkers were either cheering on the floorshow or hovering protectively over their own mugs.

Grinning in delight, Buffy vaulted the bar. She picked up the glass and grasped the tap handle the way she’d seen Jack do.

Beer flowed smoothly into the mug.

Grunting happily, Buffy pulled the now full glass out. Beer continued to flow from the tap. Tilting her head in confusion, Buffy pushed against the spigot.

Rather than stop the flow, the beer simply splashed onto the floor.

Buffy shoved her hand under the steady stream and pressed her palm against the bottom of the spigot.

The beer stopped.

With one last grunt of satisfaction, Buffy went back to drinking.

The second she moved her hand, though, beer spilled out.

“Bad beer,” Buffy growled. Giving up on anything more complicated than drinking, she took a huge mouthful of beer. Cheeks bulging, Buffy still managed to grimace as the taste of the brew registered. She swallowed quickly. “Uhhhh!” Throwing the bad beer mug to the floor, Buffy hunted for the good beer.

She pulled the tap arm next to the one still spewing beer. When new liquid flowed out, Buffy stuck her head underneath the stream and drank.

It was bad, too.

Coughing and sputtering, Buffy stepped back. Staring at the row of tap handles, she hesitated. Which one would give her what she wanted?

As she stood there examining the taps, something new caught her attention. Buffy’s head came up and her eyes grew intent. Beer could wait. Nostrils flaring at the acrid scent in the air, Buffy turned to the badly disheveled and body-strewn barroom. “Fire!” she announced loudly.


	13. Chapter 13

No one heard Buffy. The fight across the room continued, despite Jack’s efforts to separate the combatants. Placing both palms flat on the bar, Buffy leaned over the counter and sniffed. “Fire!” she announced again – with even more emphasis.

Whether the others actually heard her, or they saw the first wisps of smoke floating near the ceiling wasn’t clear. However, several of the young men raised their heads and looked around. The sound of sniffing intruded on the battle noises. “Fire!” one of them echoed.

Buffy wasn’t satisfied with that. The smell of the smoke scared her. Fire was bad. It burned and it hurt. Nevertheless, she leaped over the bar and began hunting for the source of the blaze. She had to dodge the milling forms of the other patrons. They’d finally been diverted from the fighting by the new threat.

Panicked grunts and pointing fingers replaced the howls and wild punches from a few minutes earlier.

Ignoring it all, Buffy followed the smell. It led her out of the main barroom. She coughed as the smoke grew thicker while she paced through a dark, narrow hallway. The stench of urine mixed badly with the odor of the fire. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, but she kept going.

The heat made its presence known. Buffy placed her hand against the wall and now followed the warmth. It wasn’t necessary. She saw the blaze before she actually discovered the source.

Yellow flames licked along the bottom edge of the door down the hall to the right, and thick black smoke billowed from around the frame. Buffy stopped and grunted in fear. Fire was bad. She retreated a step; the need to flee jangled her nerves.

“Buffy! We can’t get out.” The panic in Jack’s voice spun her around. She stared at him in confusion until he waved her toward him. “Please. You have to help us!”

Some inner urging got her moving in his direction.

He gripped her arm and dragged her back into the barroom. The destruction was worse than before. Not a single chair or table was intact. The young men who had been brawling now held makeshift clubs and battered at the walls and exits. The smoke, which had previously only darkened the ceiling, now swirled through the entire room.

“Out,” Buffy said sternly to Jack. She pointed at the main door.

Jack shook his head. “We tried. It’s locked from the outside.

Driven by that inner voice, Buffy ignored Jack and ran to the door. She shoved on the silver push bar with no effect. Growling, she then threw herself bodily into the heavy metal door the next time. It still didn’t work.

They had to get out. That need pounded through her. The fire was bad. Turning her head, Buffy glimpsed the flames beginning to spread toward the side wall of the bar. Whimpering deep in her throat, Buffy scanned the rest of the room. There were no more exits.

Then a mug shattered against the wall next to her.

Buffy watched the tiny shards drop to the floor. Raising her hand, she stared at the nearly healed cut from earlier. “Bad beer,” she mumbled at the memory. Striding forward and shoving one of the others out of the way, Buffy hefted the remains of a table.

She looked up at the small series of windows near the ceiling. “Out.” With a twist and a grunt of effort, the table flew through the air – and through the glass. Buffy turned back to Jack and pointed at the now open window. “Out.”

***

Faith was the first to respond to Willow’s despondent question. “Fuck, Red, B could be a hundred different places.” She held up one hand and started ticking a few of them off. “The Pump, the library, the Grotto, X-Man’s…”

“Thank you, honey,” Mrs. Summers interrupted. “We all know she _might_ be at those places. However, if she were, I believe she would have answered her cell phone.”

“Right. Sorry.” Faith’s leg wiggled under Willow. “You’re thinking we need to go out and look, ain’t you?” She set Willow on her feet and hopped up. “Then let’s stop talkin’ and start doin’.”

Tara watched the three women grab purses, wallets, and… Her eyes went wide as Faith stuffed the dagger she’d been sharpening into a sheath built into the waistband of her pants. “D-do you really thi-think you’ll need th-that?” She pointed at the weapon.

There was another series of looks exchanged between Faith, Willow, and Mrs. Summers before Willow offered a hesitant, “I did say Sunnydale wasn’t safe, remember?”

Yes, Tara remembered. However, it was still daylight outside and there were four of them. It didn’t make sense.

“Look, T, let it go. If you still want answers later, I’ll give ‘em to you.” Faith rocked on her heels and met Tara’s eyes. “We got other things to worry about right now.”

Flushing at the comment, Tara slowly climbed off the couch. “B-Buffy might b-be in trouble,” she said. “I underst-stand.” Even with her shields pulled up, Tara sensed the anxiety in the room. This wasn’t a joke to them.

Tara could almost _see_ her mother’s impatient and very worried look, urging her to stop hiding and help her new friends.

“I mi-might be able to h-help you find her.” The words slipped out before Tara was really ready for them.

The three women already heading for the door froze. “Honey?” Mrs. Summers turned to give her a questioning look. “Do you know where Buffy is?” The unspoken, “And why didn’t you say something before now?” rang in Tara’s head.

“No!” she protested quickly. “B-but I’m a wi-witch. I kn-know a spell that helps f-find th-things. If I c-cast it, it might le-lead us right to her.” At least, Tara hoped it would. She’d never actually used the spell to find a person – only a lost locket and her pet cat.

Her statement galvanized the other women. They returned to the living room and gathered around Tara. “Really?” Willow was the first to say anything. “You can do a spell like that? Can you show me how? It would come in handy for, you know, when we lose or need to find…uh…stuff,” she continued excitedly.

Faith gently put a hand over Willow’s mouth. “Sorry, T, Mrs. S. She gets carried away, like I said before. You need anything for the spell? Red’s got some magical crap in the bedroom.”

“A…a few things. Salt, a kn-knife. Um…some-something of B-Buffy’s, too, if you h-have it.” It wasn’t absolutely necessary; however, now that she’d made the offer to help, Tara wanted to make sure it worked.

“No big. B left some clothes here the last time she stopped by.” Faith gave Willow a sheepish grin. “I kinda ran into somethin’ meaner than me and B used her shirt to stop the bleeding.” She actually flinched away from Willow’s laser-like glare. “Anyway, it’s stashed in the back of the closet. Ain’t got around to washing it yet.”

Mumbling escaped from under the hand Faith still had pressed over Willow’s mouth. The mumbles turned into words when Willow stepped away. “Stop your _bleeding?_ We are so going to talk after this, Faith.” She stomped down the hallway with Faith staring forlornly after her.

Although she was secretly amused by the exchange, Tara stuck to business. “Faith, w-we need to m-move the couch, too, so I c-can cast the Cir-Circle.” It was far too late to back out now.

Giving one last glance at the now-empty hallway, Faith dragged the heavy couch out of the way as if it weighed nothing – and then moved the end tables and lamps for good measure. “That enough room for you, T?” She waved a hand at the empty space in the middle of the room. “If it ain’t, I can just take everything into the hall.”

“Th-that’s fine, Faith,” Tara told her softly. She walked into the clear area and paced off the Circle. As she stood staring at the carpet, Tara ran the words of the spell through her mind. It was a simple spell. She could do it…even with an audience.

When Willow hurried back in with the supplies clutched in her hands, Tara was almost convinced of her own ability.

Taking the box of salt and the steak knife wrapped in a bloodstained silk blouse from Willow, Tara glanced at all three women. She didn’t know how much any of them knew about magic so she stuck to the very basics. “Once I ca-cast the Circle, you can’t cr-cross it. No m-matter what.”

Faith started to object until Mrs. Summers raised a warning hand. “We won’t, honey. I promise.” Tara saw her lips thin in resolution. “What else should we do… or not do?”

“Th-that’s really all.” Tara tilted her head. No. It wasn’t. “And, w-well, the spell uses f-fairies to search for the ob-object. Bu-Buffy. Th-they c-can get car-carried away, and they m-move really fast.” She remembered barely keeping up with the tiny blue lights the last time she’d cast this spell. “Wh-when you see the blue lights, b-be ready to go.” The advice was as much for herself as for the others. Taking the Circle down quickly had never been easy.

Three heads nodded in agreement before Willow, Faith, and Mrs. Summers all moved back a few steps. Their avid interest in the spell made Tara twitch. Goddess, what had she been thinking? She had enough trouble talking without stuttering.

Blocking that thought as best she could, Tara set the shirt and knife on the floor and opened the box of salt. She backed slowly in a mostly circular shape, pouring the salt as she intoned softly, “Goddess Diana, grant that this Circle remain hallowed ground. Aid us in our search for our lost companion. Ward this space against those who would do us harm.” As she spoke the final word, Tara finished the salt circle. Silvery waves of light sprang from the floor and grew in height until they reached the ceiling. Cut off from her audience, Tara took a moment to use an internal mantra to regain her calm.

Finally, Tara knew she was as ready as she would ever be. Now she retrieved Buffy’s blouse and the knife. Holding one item in each hand, she lifted them to shoulder level. “Aradia, Goddess of the Lost, the path is murky; the woods are dense, and darkness pervades. I beseech thee - bring the Light!”

Tara reached across her body and nicked her wrist with the knife. Blood dripped from the shallow cut, staining the edge of the blouse she clutched. “I beseech thee – bring the Light!” she repeated.

A gasp from one of the trio behind her (and the sudden drain on her energies) let Tara know the spell had been a success. She slashed her right hand in a short, sharp downward arc. “Begone!” Tara commanded the magical barrier around her. It wasn’t the recommended way to take down the Circle, but it would have to do. She kept a close eye on the magic as it grounded and dissipated safely.

“T, we ready? Them lights is already down the street,” Faith called out.

"R-ready.” Tara had to sprint to keep up with the rest of the searchers as they rushed outside.  They didn’t follow the fairies down the sidewalk the way Tara expected, and she nearly asked why – until Mrs. Summers unlocked the door to a Jeep sitting in the nearby parking lot.

In minutes, the older woman zipped down the street with the twinkling green lights less than a block ahead. “Hang on, girls!” The Jeep weaved around a slower-moving car and took an abrupt right as the fairies changed directions.

“Fuck me!” Faith grabbed the roll bar and stood up. “Mrs. S, step on it.”

“Did you see Buffy?” Mrs. Summers asked over the squeal of the tires as the Jeep surged forward.

“No.” Faith’s right hand pointed to something in the sky. “But I bet I know where to find her.”  Black smoke rose in a cloud from a nearby building. “Where there’s fire, there’s B.”


	14. Chapter 14

Tara lurched sideways as the Jeep swerved to follow Faith’s pointing finger. As they careened closer, the smell of smoke grew – so did the crowd of gawkers.

“Fuck!” Faith growled. “We got trouble, Mrs. S. All them people… Gonna make it hard to do anything and not have ‘em noticin’ or talkin’.”

“I don’t think that’s important right now, honey.” Parking diagonally in front of the burning building, Mrs. Summers turned off the engine and they all piled out. “Right now, we need to find out if Buffy is inside.”

The conversation faded in Tara’s consciousness. Something wasn’t right. Frowning, she tried to trace the feeling. She had to strain. Whatever had set off her senses was shielded. Tara tapped into her own power reserves, not trusting the ambient energy in the area to be untainted by the source of the problem. She was sweating and shaking by the time she finally located it. Under heavy shields, a faint magical signature colored the air with a wispy black cloud. “Goddess…”

When Tara opened her eyes, she found herself alone on the sidewalk. Panicking, she looked frantically around. She calmed slightly when she located her missing companions. Faith, flanked by Willow and Mrs. Summers stood under a series of windows set high on the wall of the building.  Tara took one step in their direction. She needed Willow’s help.

One step was all she managed, though. Eyes wide, Tara stared at the scene near the building. Bodies – _human bodies_ – flew through the upper-story window, screaming and flailing their arms and legs.

That wasn’t the most extraordinary thing happening, however.

As if the flying forms weighed nothing, Faith calmly caught each one and set them on their feet to be helped away from the fire by Mrs. Summers or Willow.

Enough was enough. Already keyed up from her discovery, Tara reached deeper into her personal well of power to do something she would normally never even consider without permission. Turning her Sight on Faith, she searched for answers. The moment Tara peered at Faith without her shields in place, all the answers to many of her questions came crashing in. Faith’s golden aura, the weapons in the apartment, and the quickly cut off conversations…

Faith was the Slayer. The knowledge broke her out of her trance. Tara started running again, shoving the rest of her questions aside for the moment. “Willow!” she called out as she drew closer. 

The other girl turned. “Tara? Are you OK? You just kinda froze back there. If you…”

Before another babblefest could start, Tara interrupted. “S-someone used ma-magic on the front doors. That’s why th-they’re coming out of the windows. It m-must be the only way out.” Willow was, by her own admission, a novice witch. Tara seized on that. “I need your help.”

The news caught Willow off guard. “What? Tara, we have to help Faith and Buffy get those people out of the building. See?” She indicated another person hurtling out of a window.

Buffy? How was Buffy…? Pushing that thought aside for later consideration, Tara gripped Willow’s arm. “I th-think we can b-break the magical l-lock if we work toge-together.” She saw Willow open her mouth. Not ready to argue or answer any more questions, Tara began dragging the reluctant girl toward the front doors. “Listen, W-Willow,” she said intently. “The si-sirens are g-getting closer and there are a l-lot of pe-people standing around. S-Some of them with cam-cameras. Do you really w-want F-Faith on the evening n-news?”

The indirect threat worked even better than Tara hoped. Willow picked up the pace until they were both sprinting. When the stopped at the doors, Tara took several deep breaths to slow her panting.

“What do you need me to do?” For once, Willow wasn’t bouncing with excitement. She met Tara’s eyes solemnly. “I’ve never done anything big, you know.”

Tara took her hand. “I n-need you to dr-drop your shields.” She felt Willow pulling them down. “ _When I tell you_ ,” she said forcefully.

Willow’s shields snapped back up as she stared at Tara, wide-eyed.

“Th-thank you.” Tara didn’t explain further. They were running out of time. Instead of talking, she lowered her own personal wards and probed the area for a safe way to expand her power. Other than a few weak and muddied puddles of energy, there weren’t any. They were on their own.

Stifling a sigh, Tara stopped searching and simply tapped into her own reserves. Magic swirled through her channels and tingled just under her skin. “N-now, Willow,” she ordered softly.

When Willow complied, Tara stretched out her aura, carefully merging their energies. It was tricky. Sweat poured off her body. Each time she moved too quickly, Willow’s magic fluoresced and sparked. That meant starting over. By the end, Tara was gritting her teeth and shaking from the strain.

The effort was worth it. Willow might be untrained, but she was immensely powerful. Flushed with the influx of energy, Tara linked her hand with Willow’s. Concentrating, she focused all their combined strength on their joined hands. She flung their hands up in the air, as if they were pushing the door open physically. At the apex of the swing, Tara released the magical energy in a sharp burst.

The doors shuddered in their frame; however, they didn’t open.

Tara poured more and more power into her focus point. She dropped their hands and tried again. This time, the magic fluoresced visibly as it arc toward the building.

With a loud explosion, the doors flew open. Pieces of wood and metal rained down around them and black smoke billowed out of the entrance.

***

Buffy picked up a wiggling and panicking boy and heaved him toward the window. He screamed the entire way, and she grunted in satisfaction as the annoying sound faded once he began his descent on the other side of the wall. “Who next?”

No one stepped forward. Clustered together in the middle of the barroom, the five remaining patrons and Jack stared at the growing wall of flames nearly surrounding them.

“Who next?” Buffy shouted again. Her inner voice demanded she save everyone. _Now!_ When there were still no volunteers, Buffy growled and stalked forward. She would simply pick someone. Grabbing the nearest college student with both hands, Buffy dragged him back to her launching point.

Before she could throw him to safety, though, a cavernous boom sent them all cowering to the floor.

Covering her head with her hands, Buffy waited for another bang. Nothing happened. Slowly and cautiously, she climbed to her feet. The air… Sniffing, Buffy caught the distinctive odor of fresh air. “Out!” Tossing her “volunteer” over her shoulder, Buffy waved her left arm at the others. “Out!”

None of them looked eager to run into the flames until two new figures ran into the room from the direction of the front door. “B-Buffy! Hurry up! The d-door’s open and the f-fire tr-trucks are pulling up outside,” one of them shouted.

The words didn’t make sense, but Buffy recognized the girl. With a happy grunt, she carried her cargo in that direction. “Out!” she stated one more time. Jogging through the spreading fire, Buffy headed for the exit with the rest of the stragglers rushing behind her.

As soon she cleared the bar, Buffy tossed the man over her shoulder to the ground. People. Lots of people. She spun around and around, staring at all of them.

***

Tara dodged the body Buffy had unceremoniously dumped on the ground. Sucking in deep gulps of the smoke-filled air, Tara coughed and blinked burning eyes. She didn’t have long to recover. The bystanders had moved closer. Now, they pressed in, pointing and murmuring. At first, Tara was too busy struggling to breathe to notice.

A loud growl snapped her head up, and breathing took a backseat to concern.

Buffy stood a few feet away, arms raised and hands outstretched. Her fingers were curled into a claw-shape. The growl emanated from _her_ throat as she appeared to keep the crowd from getting any closer.

Without thinking, Tara threw herself across the intervening space and wrapped her arms around Buffy. “It’s OK, B-Buffy.” The body under her quivered and twitched. “C-Come on. Let’s g-go fi-find Wil-Willow. Sh-She was w-worried about you.”

Buffy didn’t seem ready to move. The growl had lessened some, but the other girl remained frozen in place for a second before settling into the embrace.

“B-Buffy?” Tara tried again. Was she hurt? Nearly grunting from the effort, she managed to turn them around so Buffy had a good view of the side of the building where Faith and Mrs. Summers continued to help the people who had exited through the windows. Tara kept looking. She needed Willow’s help with Buffy.

Unfortunately, Willow was surrounded by another group of gawkers on the other side of the front doors.

Persevering, Tara let go of Buffy with one arm and pointed at the rescue efforts on the side of the building. “L-look. I’m su-sure your mom c-could use our h-help.”

She hit a chord. “Mom?” Buffy parroted. Her voice sounded odd, deep and rough. Almost guttural.

Probably from the smoke, Tara supposed. “Yes, sw-sweetie. Your m-mom.” Releasing Buffy completely, Tara began to walk backward in that direction. “W-we need to he-help them.”

Buffy’s eyes widened and she…grunted? “Buffy help.”

Before Tara could comment on that, Buffy took off. Running past Tara with frightening speed, she headed for Faith and Mrs. Summers.

Tara followed much more slowly. As she jogged after Buffy, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Why was Buffy acting so strangely? Had whoever locked the door also cast a spell on the people inside? Tara picked up her pace. She was scanning Buffy and the fire survivors before she even reached them.

“Hey, B. Nice idea – tossin’ ‘em out the window,” Faith said as Tara got closer. “Just hope one of them people over there didn’t get nothin’ on film. I’m thinking Jeeves won’t be real happy if you make the news.”

The only response from Buffy was another hair-raising growl.

Mind grappling with what she’d just seen with her Sight, Tara staggered to a stop and planted herself between the two. She was getting answers – soon.  Until then, Tara made sure to block Buffy’s access to the other girl. “Faith,” she warned softly. “D-don’t talk to Bu-Buffy right n-now.” Keeping a close eye on Buffy, Tara tried to explain part of what she’d glimpsed in Buffy’s aura. “The ma-magic on the d-door wasn’t the only sp-spell.” She had to pause as Buffy moved. Tara moved with her in a disjointed dance. There was too much potential for violence if Buffy and Faith faced off. “I th-think Buf-Buffy’s under a sp-spell, too,” Tara finished.


	15. Chapter 15

“Well ain’t that just fucking great.” Faith grimaced. “Guess B won’t be much help gettin’ us outta here before the cops and firemen show up. You got any ideas, T? With the bodies flyin’ out the windows, we need to leave. Now.”

Tara agreed with Faith. She didn’t say that, however. Her attention was on Buffy and her rapidly shifting aura. “Faith…”

Before she could complete her warning, Buffy growled and threw herself at Faith. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Tara froze. What was she supposed to do now? The fight (although, it was more grunting and rolling) was garnering even more attention. Fingers pointed and a few people began to make their way closer. Magic was out. No one would miss the pyrotechnics if Tara tried anything arcane.

“Good God! What are they doing?” Mrs. Summers and Willow sprinted up. “Girls!” She took a hesitant step forward and then stopped. Buffy’s hair-raising growl hadn’t diminished and she appeared to be flailing both arms at Faith.

Faith was fending the blows off. She wasn’t, Tara realized, fighting back. “B, for fuck’s sake…” Missing a block, Faith’s head snapped to the side. “OK. That’s it. I’m tired a bein’ nice, B.”

“Faith! Don’t hurt Buffy!” Willow bit her lip and bounced in place. She didn’t seem to realize – or care – that Buffy was most definitely _not_ the one in danger.

Ignoring the plea, Faith reared back and hit Buffy. To Tara, it looked like a killing blow. Faith grunted with the force of the swing, and there was a dull, meaty thud when the punch connected.

Buffy grunted as well, and her eyes widened. Slowly, with almost cartoonish sincerity, she blinked at Faith and mumbled, “Ow.” The next punch knocked her sideways. This time, Buffy didn’t protest. She simply slumped lifelessly to the grass.

It was as if the fire destroying the bar had suddenly sprung up under everyone’s feet. Faith scrambled up and tossed Buffy’s body over her shoulder. “Let’s motor, gang. Even in Sunnydale the fire trucks show up.” She jogged toward the Jeep and the rest of them hurried after her.

As Mrs. Summers drove carefully through the throng of bystanders, Tara’s skin tingled. She looked up and scanned the crowd with more than just her eyes. There was a lot of power out there…somewhere. “W-Willow,” she said urgently, “I n-need you to li-link with m-me again.” Not bothering to explain why, Tara reached out a mental hand and waited impatiently for Willow to grasp it.

The shared energy helped Tara focus. Closing her physical eyes and leaning back against the seat of the Jeep, she thinned her awareness and pushed outward from her Center. It was tricky because the vehicle was moving. Tara continually adjusted her anchor points as she searched for the source of the magical signature. Finally, teeth gritted against the slippery feel of the trail, Tara found it.

Unfortunately, arcane stalking wasn’t her forte. In her excitement, Tara’s magic pulsed as she approached her heavily shielded prey – and he noticed. A blast of controlled power slammed into her mind, and Tara lost her connection with Willow. Crying out sharply, she sent energy into her own shields in time to deflect a second blow. The sizzling power wrapped around her, coating her wards and looking for a weakness. Tara held very still inside her protections and kept the shielding smooth by feeding in energy from her personal stores.

It worked, and eventually the malevolent magic drained away.

Gasping, Tara’s eyes shot open. “Goddess.”  She moaned at the knifing pain in her head.

“Tara?” Willow peered at her, pale and concerned. “What happened? What were we trying to do? And who, or _what_ , was that that I felt?”

“Save the questions, honey,” Mrs. Summers interrupted. Tara wanted to hug her. She wasn’t up to a barrage of questions at the moment. “Right now, I’m taking us all home. Once we get Buffy settled in,” she glanced across the console at Buffy, lying in Faith’s lap, “and cleaned up, we can all chip in with explanations.”

Mrs. Summers was very good. Biting back a smile at the way Willow immediately turned to face the front and stopped talking, Tara bowed her head and started a short meditation exercise. Her awareness of the Jeep and its passengers faded. With each repetition of the mantra, Tara worked on relaxing the muscles and blood vessels in her neck, face, and head. She returned to herself only when the lack of motion announced they’d arrived at their destination.

It wasn’t Willow’s and Faith’s apartment. Instead, the Jeep sat next to a small house, set back from the street and shaded by a deep porch and trees. “OK, girls. Inside. I know what the aftermath is like. I’ll start in the kitchen.” Mrs. Summers hopped to the ground. Like a general organizing her troops, she fired off directions. “Faith, get Buffy into the shower.”

Faith scowled and appeared ready to protest.

“I don’t want to hear it. Willow isn’t strong enough to hold her.” Mrs. Summers narrowed her eyes at Faith. “And if Buffy wakes up in the same mood she was in before…” The words trailed off, laden with meaning.

“Gotcha, Mrs. S.” Still looking unhappy, Faith hauled Buffy out of the Jeep and resettled the unconscious form over her shoulder. “B gets a bath.” She stalked up the walk to the front door.

Tara froze when Mrs. Summers’ gaze fell on her. “Honey, I think you and I need to talk. You saw something at the bar, and I want the full story.” She grimaced. “Unfortunately, what I know about magic wouldn’t fill a thimble.”

Her eyes shifted away, and Tara sagged. Was it a mother thing? Mrs. Summers didn’t look anything like her own mother had. The look, though… Goddess. Feeling shaky from the encounter and the earlier magical expenditure, Tara started toward the house.

In the background, she heard Mrs. Summers issue her final edict. “Willow, honey, call Rupert as soon as we get inside. As much as I hate to admit it, I think we need his experience on this.”

***

Warm. Wet. Buffy smiled and wiggled at the sensation. It felt good. Then she jerked erect. The fire! Eyes snapping open, she sniffed deeply.

“What the fuck are you doin’, B? Hold still and close your eyes. I ain’t listening to you whine ‘cause you got soap in ‘em.” The voice was angry, and Buffy growled a warning. “Spell or not, stop with the growling. You’re gettin’ the Slayer all riled up, and you know how Red hates it when we get violent.”

Frowning in confusion, Buffy stared at the other girl. Why did everyone keep making all the funny sounds? Where they supposed to mean something?

“Whatever.” Even without understanding, Buffy took exception to that word.

Her growl rose in volume, and she shoved the other girl away from her. “Girl mean!” Buffy snapped. Ignoring the girl’s shocked look and grunt of surprise, Buffy hopped out of the shower. She had to get out of here.

“B!” A foot landed on the floor behind her.

Buffy didn’t wait to get captured. She found the handle on the door and ripped it open. With a rending sound, it came completely off the hinges. Uncaring, Buffy tossed the door to the side and ran into the hallway.

It was empty…and oddly familiar.

Pausing wasn’t an option, however. Buffy could hear the other girl running after her. She continued her mad dash down the staircase in front of her.

A grunt escaped her at the bottom. There were more people here! Buffy’s inner voice didn’t panic, though. This woman… The voice liked this woman. Buffy slowed her paced. “Who you?” she asked.

That’s when a body slammed into her from behind and two arms wrapped around her body. “Sorry, Mrs. S. B decided to get cute. It won’t happen again.”

The girl had found her. Buffy howled and fought the hold of her captor. “Off!” Planting her feet firmly on the ground, she shoved off the floor. The force of her push sent both of them backward to crash on the floor. Buffy grinned in satisfaction at the whoosh of air leaving the girl under her, and the moan of pain that followed. “Off!” she repeated before scrambling away.

“Oh for Heaven’s sake,” the older woman said. Her hands were on her hips, and somehow, Buffy knew that meant she’d done something wrong.

Buffy’s shoulders slumped. Making this woman angry made her feel…sad. Tears leaked from her eyes. “Buffy bad,” she mumbled. Simply saying the words made Buffy feel even worse. She took a step away from the woman and wrapped her arms around her body. “Buffy sorry.”

The woman frowned, and her hands slipped off her hips. “Honey, don’t…”

No. No matter how sorry she was, Buffy refused to let them catch her again. This woman and her looks hurt her. Pivoting on one foot, Buffy dashed away again. There was a door to her right, and that’s where she headed. Maybe there was a way out. A way away from the mean girl and the hurtful woman.

She hit the door at full speed. It swung open, and Buffy never slowed as she ran through. There was not, however, a way out of the house on the other side. Instead, Buffy hit something. Someone, actually. For the second time in just a few minutes, Buffy fell to the floor.

***

Tara shrieked in surprise when Buffy hurtled through the kitchen door. The sound quickly mutated into a cry of pain when Buffy careened into her and they topped to the ground. Her head thunked onto the tiles, and, despite her small size, Buffy’s body drove the air from Tara’s lungs on impact.

Tiny black dots floated in front of Tara’s eyes. “Uhhnnn,” she choked out. “B-Buffy?”

A soft rumble answered her question.

Trying to focus her eyes, Tara peered up. It was definitely Buffy making the noise. At first, thanks to the blow to her head, Tara was only aware of the cold kitchen floor under her and Buffy straddling her waist.

Little by little, the dots faded. Willow, Faith, and Mrs. Summers crowded in the doorway. As her vision finally cleared completely, Tara registered two very surprised faces – and one very large smirk.

“Fuck, I wish X-man was here with that camera,” Faith said. Her smirk grew impossibly bigger. “Can’t ya’ just see B’s face when the spell wears off and we got _this_ hangin’ in the living room?”

Following Faith’s line of sight, Tara suddenly wanted the dots back. “Oh, G-Goddess,” she whimpered. Buffy was still straddling her, making the strange rumbling sound – and she was naked.


	16. Chapter 16

Tara’s eyes skittered away from Buffy, tracing a random and rapid path over the kitchen counters, the cabinets, the floor tiles…

“Buffy, honey,” she heard Mrs. Summers say soothingly. “You need to get off Tara. You might hurt her.” In her wild visual wanderings, Tara saw a foot she assumed belonged to Mrs. Summers approach.

It was the wrong thing to do. Buffy sat back until she rested firmly on Tara’s stomach and growled. Tara felt the vibrations throughout her body.

The foot hesitated – and then came even closer. “Now, look, young lady. Tara is a guest in this house…” Whatever Mrs. Summers had been planning to say cut off with a sharp gasp as Buffy’s growl rose in volume. “Anyone have any other ideas? I don’t think I want to play Mean Mom at the moment.” The foot disappeared from Tara’s line of sight.

“I could take her out for ya’.” Was that a hint of anticipation in Faith’s voice? “B went down pretty easy outside the bar. All I gotta do is knock her off T and hit her a couple more times.”

Tara blocked out the rest of the conversation. Buffy had turned away from the others and was staring down at her. The normally hazel eyes looked…odd. The pupils were gone, and the irises appeared as a warm, nearly liquid copper. “T?” Buffy asked haltingly.

“Th-that’s what F-Faith calls m-me,” Tara stuttered. She really needed to move. Buffy’s warmth seeped into her, and Tara was deathly afraid Buffy would recognize her involuntary reaction. “Sw-sweetie, c-could you l-let m-me up? Pl-please?” she tacked on politely.

“Please,” Buffy echoed. With a wide smile, she gently touched Tara’s face. “Please!”

Wiggling carefully, Tara tried to scoot from beneath Buffy.  Although the other girl hadn’t done anything threatening, Tara remembered the growl. Buffy’s aura was still unstable. She wasn’t chancing an emotional explosion in such…intimate contact.

Buffy wasn’t cooperating. As soon as Tara began to move, she tightened her legs around Tara’s middle and frowned fiercely. “Girl no go,” she stated.

Tara froze – she didn’t have much choice. Buffy’s grip kept her effectively immobile. Not to mention the way her stare bore into Tara. “S-Sure, sw-sweetie. I’ll st-stay.” Tara hoped her agreement would appease Buffy.

“T, hang tight. I’ll slide closer,” Faith stage whispered. It wasn’t much of an effort at stealth. If Tara could hear the words, it was a safe bet Buffy could also. Over Buffy’s shoulder, Tara caught a slow, deliberate movement.

It was enough to alert Buffy. A hair-raising growl echoed through the kitchen.

Faith stopped, left foot frozen off the ground. “Fuck!”

Tara couldn’t help it. She giggled. This was like a really bad slapstick comedy – with her in a starring role. “Fa-Faith, st-stay there,” she warned. “B-Buffy doesn’t l-like it wh-when you m-move.” Hesitantly, she reached up and stroked Buffy’s right arm. “Easy, B-Buffy. N-nothing’s going to hu-hurt you.”

It was as if she’d flicked a switch. The second she touched Buffy, the growl stopped.

Wearing matching frowns of confusion, Buffy and Tara looked at one another. What was that all about? Tara didn’t understand…and she wasn’t really interested in figuring it out at the moment. Buffy seemed calmer; that was the important thing. Pressing her advantage, Tara smiled slightly and asked, “D-do you th-think we c-could get up? Th-The floor is h-hard.”

Buffy didn’t stand or even shift. Instead, she reached out and put a finger over Tara’s lips. It poked and prodded gently. “Girl pretty.”

Tara’s face flamed, and she heard a choked off laugh from the other side of the room. “Th-thank you, sw-sweetie.” She cleared her throat, lips tingling under the continued caresses. Goddess, Faith was never going to let her live this down. Trying to mimic Buffy’s unique speech patterns, Tara rephrased her question. “Buffy up?”

That didn’t work. Buffy simply frowned and tilted her head.

“Ummm…” Praying she didn’t send Buffy into another growling fit, Tara ordered, “Buffy off!”

The frown mutated into a very clear pout. “Buffy off,” Buffy repeated sadly. Shoulders slumped, she climbed off Tara. As soon as she was upright, she spun and glared at the three women still clustered near the door.

Keeping a close eye on Buffy, Tara stood. The other girl’s body language confused her. “B-Buffy?” she asked softly. Had she _hurt_ Buffy with her request?

Molten copper eyes lifted to hers. “Buffy sorry,” Buffy mumbled. “Not mean hurt.”

“You d-didn’t, Bu-Buffy.” Tara hurried to reassure a very sorrowful Buffy. Biting her lip, Tara mentally shook her head at the surreal conversation. “I’m f-fine.” She smiled brightly and stretched her arms over her head. “S-See? You didn’t h-hurt me.”

***

Buffy stared at the other girl and her lips automatically smiled back. This girl was different from the mean one. She smiled and her voice didn’t make Buffy growl or want to hit things. “No hurt,” Buffy promised her solemnly. Then she reconsidered. “No hurt Nice Girl.” She wasn’t making _any_ vows regarding the mean girl.

“Well, that means Tara’s safe.” Buffy wanted to stamp her foot. Why did everyone keep making those funny sounds? She was careful not to react badly, though. She didn’t want the older woman to make her feel bad again. “Faith, it looks like you won’t be helping out much for a while.”

The Mean Girl grunted and Buffy glared at her, ready to defend herself. “Like I’m gonna fuckin’ complain about that. If ya’ don’t mind, I’m gonna hose off and watch TV. Let me know when Cave Buffy over there is back to normal.”

Buffy’s smile reappeared when the Mean Girl stalked out of the room. Good. She was gone, and Buffy could relax a little. She straightened from her semi-crouch and looked between the older woman and the slight red head. She knew the red head. Frowning, Buffy thought hard, ignoring the way that made her head pound. “Willow!” This girl was Willow; there were fuzzy memories swirling in her mind.

She instinctively covered her ears when Willow squealed. “Buffy! You remember!” Willow took a step closer, grinning widely.

Memories were one thing. The sudden movement, though, set off a primal response. Buffy dropped back into her crouch and growled warningly. “No!” she ordered. There was something else. Every time Buffy looked at Willow, moisture flooded her eyes and her chest hurt. Willow had hurt her! Willow was mean, too. “Buffy no like Willow!”

Willow’s smile disappeared, and she turned very white. “Buffy, I…You know I didn’t mean what I said. You surprised me, that’s all and I don’t do surprises well. It’s like a pop quiz! I knew the material. I could even teach it. But when the teacher says…”

More words. Even more words than before. Buffy growled louder. She was tired of all the words.

“Easy, sw-sweetie.” Buffy jerked around at the sound sounds from behind her. The Nice Girl was still smiling and she held out a hand to Buffy. “Don’t gr-growl at W-Willow. It m-makes her ta-talk f-faster.”

An explosive breath spun Buffy to face Willow and the older woman. Willow was frowning fiercely, and Buffy stepped back. She made sure to stay between the Nice Girl and Willow. That inner voice was back, and the message was loud and clear. Protect the smiling girl behind her. “No hurt!” Buffy ordered Willow. To make sure Willow understood, she narrowed her eyes and growled softly.

***

As amusing as Tara was beginning to find the situation, it needed to end. Soon. Willow looked completely freaked out and Mrs. Summers nearly vibrated with tension. She _very_ carefully laid a hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “Shh!” She kept her voice soft and soothing. “Willow w-won’t hurt you an-anymore.” Out of the corner of her eye, Tara saw Willow open her mouth. She glared at Willow. For such a smart girl, Willow did stupid things. Buffy had been growling a minute ago. Tara was fairly certain it wasn’t simply for effect. “I won’t l-let her hu-hurt you, sweetie.”

It didn’t appear to have any effect. Buffy still growled, and she continued to glower at Willow.

“Buffy…” Tara tried to find something else to say, something to calm Buffy enough that they could get her upstairs – and dressed. Stroking Buffy’s warm skin with her thumb, Tara remained silent. She repeated her caress in the charged stillness. Stroke up and across Buffy’s shoulder. Pause. Drag back and down. It was hypnotic, and Tara felt herself hovering close to a trance state.

Finally, after countless repetitions, Tara noticed Buffy’s growl had stopped. Buffy stood with her head hanging forward and her arms dangling limply at her sides.

Raising her eyes to Mrs. Summers, Tara mouthed the words, “I’ll take her upstairs.”

Mrs. Summers frowned. “Too dangerous.” At least, that’s what Tara _thought_ she responded. Lip reading wasn’t her specialty.

It wasn’t dangerous. Not with Buffy in this state. If something _did_ happen, Tara had regained enough energy to stop Buffy – for a while. She met Mrs. Summers’ stare and tried again. “Take Willow – and Faith – outside. Now!” It was hard to inject the right amount of snap to the command without sound.

Perhaps recognizing the futility of arguing, Mrs. Summers slid the kitchen door open and waited for Willow to tiptoe out. With one last unhappy glance at Tara, Mrs. Summers followed.

Alone with Buffy, Tara now faced a decision. Should she _ask_ Buffy to go upstairs with her? Or should she simply start walking in that direction while keeping up the thumb massage? “B-Buffy?” Tara didn’t think she had enough strength to force Buffy out of the room if she refused to go.

Unfortunately, Buffy didn’t like the interruption. “No talk,” she mumbled. “Touch good. No talk.”

That took care of the decision-making process. Tara pressed her lips together over a chuckle and placed her left hand on Buffy’s left shoulder. Since Buffy preferred massages to conversation, Tara went that route. She gently worked her thumbs over the heavy muscles in Buffy’s neck and shoulders.

A soft rumble echoed in the kitchen. It wasn’t a growl. Tara smiled and shook her head. Goddess.  Buffy was _purring_. Taking that as a sound of contentment, Tara applied slight pressure through her palms. Like a sleepwalker, Buffy paced forward at her urging.


	17. Chapter 17

Thankfully, the house was empty as Tara steered Buffy toward the stairs. She paused at the bottom, unsure where to go. Buffy, however, didn’t seem confused. She lifted her foot and began the upward journey, leaving Tara scrambling to maintain their physical contact.

At the top of the stairs, Tara realized Faith had unwittingly left clues for her to follow. The sound of running water led her and Buffy straight down the hall to a small bathroom. The door was open, and water drops splattered on the floor through the partially opened shower curtain.

That was exactly where Tara needed Buffy – in the shower. How, though? Buffy wasn’t in any condition to bathe herself. And…Tara risked a look at Buffy. No. Tara cleared her throat and blinked rapidly. She wasn’t going to help Buffy. No, that was a very bad idea. “B-Buffy?” she started softly. Tara remembered Buffy’s reaction to her voice in the kitchen. “Sweetie, c-can you g-get in the shower?”

“Shower?” Buffy shook her head and peered around the small room. Her right hand rose and pointed at the tub. “Shower.”

The vocabulary lesson was a success. Now for the more important part of this learning session. “Get in the shower, B-Buffy.” Tara applied more pressure to Buffy’s shoulders. “You st-still have soap all over.” Tara blithely ignored her own damp clothing and soap-smeared arms and face. Her efforts with Buffy were working. Holding back a cheer, Tara waited while Buffy stepped into the bathtub and moved under the spray.

She wasn’t ready for Buffy’s unhappy cry. “Cold!” Buffy jumped back out, feet slipping and sliding on the tiles. “Bad shower!” Lip thrust out in a clear pout, Buffy wrapped her arms around herself and glared at Tara.

Giving up on the shower, Tara sighed and leaned around Buffy to turn off the water. “I’m s-sorry, Buffy. I d-didn’t think about that.” In an echo of Buffy’s speech pattern, she mumbled, “Bad Tara.”

One of Buffy’s hands shot out and covered Tara’s mouth. “Not bad. Tara good.” Leaning closer, Buffy peered into Tara’s eyes. “Buffy like Tara.”

Unexpected tears burned Tara’s eyes at the simple statement. No, Buffy didn’t like her. The spell must have altered her memories. “Th-thank you, sweetie,” she said anyway. Stepping away, she reached for a washcloth lying on the vanity. “Come on. If the bad shower won’t help with the soap, w-we’ll do it another way.” Tara made sure the water flowing from the tap was nice and warm before she wet the cotton washcloth.

Buffy hovered uncertainly in the middle of the bathroom. “Tara?”

“It’s fine, B-Buffy. I promise.” Smiling brightly, Tara reached for Buffy’s right hand. She could feel Buffy’s muscles tense at her touch, but Buffy didn’t pull away. Sliding the washcloth up Buffy’s arm, she cleaned off the light film of soap.

“Good,” Buffy told Tara. She was relaxed again, free arm hanging loosely at her side.

Tara, however, looked longingly at the shower. Maybe she could leave Buffy where she was and take a cold shower herself. She was only human, and the close contact with Buffy had her distinctly on edge. Shoring up her self control, Tara rinsed the cloth and started on Buffy’s chest and neck areas.  This wouldn’t take long; she could do this, Tara assured herself.

Her inner pep talk stumbled to a halt when Buffy began purring again.

The sound cut through the otherwise silent bathroom and proceeded to jangle Tara’s already vibrating nerves. “Goddess,” Tara said imploringly. What had she done to deserve this? Trying not to think too hard or pay too much attention to the rumble emanating from Buffy, Tara repeated her rinse, wet, wipe actions until she had cleaned off most of Buffy’s front.

Making only minimal contact with the two breasts pointing in her direction, Tara gripped Buffy’s shoulders and turned her to face the shower. Now Tara gave up on slow and steady and settled on speed. She had to get out of the bathroom and get Buffy into some clothes. A few more swipes of the cloth, and Tara mentally declared Buffy clean enough. She didn’t acknowledge the tangled mass of Buffy’s hair as she yanked the towel off the bar on the far wall, wrapping it around Buffy’s body. “All done,” she announced in relief.

“Done!” Buffy echoed. She spun and stared at Tara.

Tara blushed under the curious regard. Buffy’s eyes were still oddly colored, and her nostrils flared with every breath. “Now…” What was she supposed to now? Tara struggled to pull her thoughts together. “Clothes!” Goddess, how could she have forgotten that? She needed to get Buffy into some clothes. “Come on, sweetie.” Flashing another bright smile (it was beginning to feel painted on), Tara took Buffy’s hand and began to lead them out of the bathroom.

***

Tara’s hand felt good in Buffy’s. It was smooth. Following Tara out of the tiny room, Buffy curiously stroked her thumb over the back of the hand holding hers. “Nice,” she announced.  Then she raised her free hand and examined her own fingers. They weren’t smooth like Tara’s. Frowning, she peered at her fingers, seeing the rough patches on her palms and fingertips.

“Buffy?” Tara’s voice broke her concentration. “Sweetie, I don’t know which room is yours.”

If it had been anyone other than Tara, Buffy would have growled. She didn’t understand the funny sounds. Trying to cooperate, though, she obligingly repeated, “Yours.” That must not have been what Tara wanted. Tara frowned, and Buffy immediately felt bad. “Buffy yours,” she tried again.

Heat suddenly radiated from Tara’s face, and Buffy raised their joined hands to feel it. Tara stepped away from the caress. “No. No, Buffy. That’s not what I meant.”

A rumble came from Tara’s throat, and Buffy bowed her head to show how sorry she was for angering Tara.

“That’s OK. W-We’ll just find it together.” Buffy’s head came up as Tara continued to make the incomprehensible sounds. “Let’s try this room. Is this Buffy’s room?” Opening the door, Tara pulled Buffy across the hall and they both looked inside.

A faint odor tickled Buffy’s nose. She smiled at the familiar scent. It reminded her of… Frowning, Buffy tried to remember. It was right there. She drew in a deeper breath. “Mom.” The smell and the word went together.

Her comments pleased Tara. A happy smile crossed Tara’s face. “Your mom’s room. Good, Buffy. Are you remembering things?” She stepped back and closed the door. “Come on. Let’s try the next room.”

Buffy trotted next to Tara. “Buffy good.” That was good. Buffy didn’t want to make Tara unhappy. When they entered the next room, though, she paused at the doorway. Now Tara’s earlier words made sense. “Buffy’s room.” Her scent was everywhere. Breathing deeply, Buffy slowly left the threshold and wandered toward the desk. Reaching out, she brushed a finger over the sparkling, knife-edged blades at the bottom of the shoes slung over the back of a chair. “Skates.”

An image formed in her mind. The skates and being cold and a sharp, cutting sound as she went round and round. Trying to recapture that memory further, Buffy threw out her arms and began to spin in circles. “Schwwwwww,” she intoned in attempt to imitate the sound in her head.

***

At first, Tara was too busy searching through Buffy’s dresser drawers to notice the activity going on behind her. A new sound, however, snapped her head in Buffy’s direction. Towel-less, with arms held away from her body, Buffy spun madly in place. Her mouth was open and she made sounds like a television whose channel was off the air. “Dear Goddess.” Tara’s eyes flew shut. This couldn’t be happening. Where was the quiet, happy, and nearly docile Buffy from only minutes ago?

There were no answers behind her eyelids. Tara forced them open and paced slowly toward Buffy – making sure to pick up the discarded towel along the way. “Buffy!” she tried to interrupt the performance with no results. Wanting to give in to her own urge to growl (in frustration), Tara tossed the towel at Buffy and stalked to the closet. There had to be shirts and pants there. She ripped the first pair of jeans and the first blouse she found off their hangers.

It wasn’t until she turned back to Buffy that Tara realized her problems were far from over. Spinning Buffy had given way to Slumping Buffy. “Dear Goddess,” Tara repeated. Then, seeing the confused and hurt expression in Buffy’s downcast face, Tara softened. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Um…Bad Tara. Tara sorry.” With a much more genuine smile than before, Tara patted Buffy’s shoulder. Wryly acknowledging their drastically altered roles, she muttered, “By the time you’re back to normal, I’ll be owing _you_ an apology, won’t I?”

Buffy merely gripped her hand and resumed stroking it.

“Do you think you can get into the clothes by yourself?” Tara asked without much expectation of success. She held the clothes out to Buffy and prayed.

For an instant, success seemed possible. Buffy took the clothes with a smile – right before sniffing them and dropping them to the floor with a grunt.

Mentally gearing up for battle, Tara bent and retrieved the top-most item. “Shirt, Buffy,” she said and moved closer. Her intention had been to simply slip the button-up top on Buffy. Buffy, unfortunately, didn’t seem to like simple. Tara found herself dressing empty air.

“No!” Buffy said emphatically. Clutching the towel around her shoulders, she shook her head and stood pressed against the side of the bed.

“Buffy…” Tara took a deep breath when she realized her teeth were clenched. “Sweetie, please.” Her mother had always said politeness got results. Once again, Tara sent a silent thank you to her mother. Buffy responded to the tone and sidled a few steps nearer. “Good Buffy.” Tara smoothly closed the remaining gap and inserted Buffy’s right arm into the shirt.

Trembling like a filly under the saddle for the first time, Buffy stood poised to flee.

Tara resorted to stroking Buffy’s shoulder again, and Buffy slowly calmed. Keeping alert for adverse reactions, Tara managed to get Buffy’s other arm into the shirt and began buttoning the front. By the time it was completely closed, she was bathed in sweat and exhausted.  Now, though, Tara had a system. When she picked up Buffy’s foot in preparation for sliding it into the jeans, Tara kept up a steady stream of soft words and caresses.

Buffy grimaced and plucked at the shirt as Tara drew up the jeans and fastened the snap.

“Clothes good,” Tara quickly assured her. They were far better than the alternative. Tara breathed a sigh of relief when Buffy stopped fussing. She took Buffy’s arm. It was time to retrieve Joyce and company from their exile. They needed to figure out how to get Buffy back to normal. With her limited capacity for understanding and her violent reactions to surprises, Buffy was a child with Slayer strength. If she got out of control… Tara cut that thought off sharply. It wasn’t going to happen. “Come on, sweetie. Your mom is downstairs. Let’s go see if she has any good news for us.”

Buffy tilted her head in consideration before following Tara out of her bedroom and down the stairs. She hung at the very end of Tara’s grasp, sniffing the air.

Seeing Buffy’s actions, Tara hesitated. Was something wrong? Buffy didn’t appear frightened or angry. With some trepidation, Tara opened the front door.


	18. Chapter 18

Mrs. Summers and an unknown man stood side by side on the front porch. Both ignored Tara, peering worriedly at Buffy. “Ah…I see Buffy has returned to herself,” the man enunciated in a clipped British accent.

His pleased smile faltered when Buffy pressed against Tara’s back and growled softly.

“Not exactly,” Tara mumbled. She wasn’t sure how to respond to Buffy’s actions. The other girl was plastered against her, and her arms had snaked around Tara’s middle. “I g-got her dr-dressed, though.” Blushing brightly at the inane comment and the stutter, Tara fought to move herself and Buffy out of the doorway. “I th-think it’s safe to come ins-inside, though.” Despite the rumble that vibrated through her, Tara didn’t feel Buffy tensing for battle.

Neither of the two adults on the porch moved.

“Pl-please. Come in.” Tara tried to keep the words polite through her frustration. Fixing Buffy had been the big project earlier. Why did she seem to be the only one still working on that? In fact… Leaning toward the open door, Tara looked around Mrs. Summers and her companion. “Where are Wi-Willow and Faith?” They weren’t anywhere in sight.

Finally stepping inside, Mrs. Summers patted Tara’s shoulder, keeping a careful eye on Buffy. “I sent them home. Buffy didn’t seem to want them here.” Tara saw her pained frown. “Willow is planning to do some research on her computer and call if she finds anything.”

Not sure how to respond, Tara simply nodded. “Are w-we going to do re-research here, too?” Buffy was still glued to her back, and now she was stroking Tara’s stomach with warm fingers.  The caresses were making it hard for Tara to stay focused. She tried, though. It was important to find a way to get Buffy back to normal. “I th-think I know how this happened.”

Her words spurred the man with Mrs. Summers into a flood of questions. “You do? How? Was it aimed at Buffy? Is there a way to reverse the spell?” He resembled Willow in both enthusiasm and speed.

“Rupert!” Mrs. Summers shoved him gently toward the living room. “Sit down and give Tara a chance to explain,” she remonstrated with amused affection.

Tara’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. _This_ was the Rupert that Mrs. Summers had been sure could help? He was bright red and stammering worse than Tara herself normally did. Biting her lip against a giggle, Tara inched away from Buffy. At least…that was her intention. The arms around her disagreed. They tightened slightly, and Tara stopped moving.

“No go,” Buffy announced firmly.

This might be a problem. Tara flashed a reassuring smile at Rupert and Mrs. Summers. “It’s OK, sweetie. We’re going to get comfortable in the other room. You can go with me.” She knew, even as she spoke, that Buffy’s limited vocabulary wouldn’t stand up to the long explanation.

Sure enough, Buffy merely grunted. “No go.”

Feeling her smile slip slightly, Tara considered her options. Forcing Buffy into the other room? She slid a foot forward – and did some grunting of her own when Buffy gripped her even tighter. Screaming in frustration had merit suddenly. “Buffy…” Tara didn’t know how to phrase her request. She abandoned tact altogether. “Buffy go now!”

Buffy’s grip loosened – in shock, probably.

Tara used the withdrawal to her advantage. Surging forward, she moved out of Buffy grasp and turned to face the other girl. “Now!” she repeated. For added measure, Tara pointed into the living room and stared stonily into wide copper eyes.

It worked. With plodding steps and outthrust lower lip, Buffy did as ordered.

Maintaining her stern visage in case Buffy glanced back, Tara walked into the living room a few steps behind Buffy. A conspicuously quiet Rupert and Mrs. Summers slipped in at her side and took seats on the couch. 

That left the chair on the far side of the large room. Tara headed in that direction, watching as Buffy hesitated in front of the nearby fireplace, tilting her head slightly. “Buffy?” Not really wanting to startle or anger Buffy, Tara spoke softly.

She wasn’t prepared for Buffy’s beaming smile and the picture Buffy thrust in her direction. “Scoobies,” Buffy said clearly.

The picture hovering in front of Tara’s face contained a trio of happy teenagers. She recognized Willow and Buffy. The dark haired young man, though, was new. “Scoobies.” Tara repeated the word and removed the silver frame from Buffy’s hand. “Come on, sweetie. You can tell me about the Scoobies later.” Still holding the picture, Tara tugged gently on Buffy’s arm until they were standing in front of the chair. “Buffy sit. Please.”

For once, Buffy didn’t protest. She dropped into the chair.

An explosion of sound to their right startled a squeal out of Tara. Buffy instantly jumped out of the chair and pulled Tara protectively behind her. A low, threatening growl emanated from her throat as Buffy apparently warned whoever (or whatever) had made the noise to go away.

Heart pounding, Tara buried her head in Buffy’s shoulder. The sounds continued unabated from the television in the far corner of the room.

Buffy, though, didn’t understand what was going on. She vibrated against Tara, body tense and fists clenched. Frowning fiercely, she scanned the room for the threat.

“Sweetie, I’m fine.” Tara sought to soothe her. “Sit down.”

Before Tara could maneuver Buffy back into the chair, the flicker of frenetic movement from the cartoon on the television caught Buffy’s attention. “Little people!” she crowed. Her vigilant stance disappeared and she grinned widely. Completely enthralled, Buffy left Tara to fend for herself and crept closer to the television...

“Well, I was going to suggest the use of magic to restrain Buffy, if necessary.” Rupert grimaced and pulled his glasses off his nose. Rubbing at the pressure indentations with his right hand, he went on. “This is far worse than I had feared. Buffy is too powerful to remain completely unrestrained in her current condition. She could easily do harm to an innocent without meaning to do so.”

Really? Tara barely held back the sarcastic question. “Yes, I had the s-same thought.” Staring at a grinning and clapping Buffy poised in front of the television, Tara no longer felt the same anxiety. However, she knew that Buffy’s currently child-like state was temporary. One loud noise or anything threatening, and Buffy would go back to her former violent bent.

“Joyce tells me that you are a witch, my dear.” Leaning forward, Rupert peered shortsightedly at Tara. “Perhaps you could do…something to get Buffy into a more relaxed state of mind? Put her to sleep?”

“No, sir. I’m sorry.” The politeness drilled into Tara prevented her from using Rupert’s first name – and it _almost_ kept her next words from sounding mocking. “H-Have you ever used magic?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Rupert replaced his glasses. “Yes, many years ago. I only dabble now and then these days.”

“Oh.” That explained his lack of knowledge. “Um…It isn’t as eas-easy as people think.” Tara could see from his impatient frown that he didn’t understand her point and that he wasn’t going to wait long for more. “We d-don’t know what spell was used to make Buffy and the others like th-this. If I c-cast a counterspell or just put her to sl-sleep, the results might be bad.” Disastrous, actually. Tara didn’t want to delve too deeply into the possible consequences. They needed to focus on finding answers instead.

“Bloody hell!” Rupert’s frustrated exposition earned a growl from Buffy.

Glaring at him, Buffy ordered angrily, “Buffy like little people. No talk!” She pointed at him to emphasize her words.

Looking less than chastened - and quite annoyed - Rupert settled back against the couch and didn’t say anything.

“Good.” Buffy went back to the cartoon.

The situation was bad. Tara weighed their options. “I d-don’t know what spell made Buffy like this; I th-think I know who does, though.” The warlock at the bar. “There was a man at the bar. He was ke-keeping people inside the building. With m-magic,” Tara tacked on to make sure Rupert and Mrs. Summers understood.

“Oh, Rupert. You don’t think someone was after Buffy, do you?” Joyce joined the conversation finally. Her attention remained mostly on Buffy as she spoke. “I thought, with both of the girls here…”

“It wouldn’t be an unlikely occurrence.” Rupert’s glasses came off again, and he fished a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket. Methodically cleaning each lens, he continued. “However, it strikes me as odd that anyone focusing on Buffy would choose that particular moment to attack. It would have been too hard to predict her being there. And Buffy is far too skilled not to notice that she was being followed – especially during the day.” Turning his head, Rupert glanced at Tara. “Did you get a good look at this person, Tara?”

If only she had. Tara picked up the remote Buffy had inadvertently sat on and then dropped into the chair. Stared at the photo still clutched in her hands, she said softly, “No. W-Willow and I tried.” And they’d been so close, right at the edges of the warlock’s shields. “He saw us, though.” She raised her eyes. “Whoever he is, he’s very powerful. His attack nearly got through my shields.”

Rupert might not have been an expert in the arcane; however, he seemed to understand the gravity of that last statement. “Were you hurt, Tara?” He shoved his glasses back on and leaned toward her in concern. “I have some contacts in the local covens…”

Blushing, Tara shook her head. “No, sir. I’m fine. Just a headache.”

A warm hand patted Tara’s knee. “You will, of course, let us know if your headache worsens.” Rupert’s voice was soft – and it did nothing to disguise the firm command.

“Yes, sir,” Tara answered quickly. Wanting desperately to deflect attention from herself, she changed the subject. “If B-Buffy wasn’t the target, why c-cast the spell on the people in the bar?”

***

The voices behind Buffy were annoying; although, not so annoying that she stopped trying to find the little people running back and forth in the box. Hands pressed to the surface, she grunted and chuckled as one of the little people fell down. Buffy liked the big stars that appeared and floated in a circle around the little man’s head.

Then she heard something she recognized. Tara’s soft voice said, “bar.”

Spinning around, Buffy forgot all about the people in the box. “Bar!” she echoed. She’d liked the bar…before the fire, anyway. The bar had beer. Maybe Tara could help her get more beer. Buffy stood regarded Tara closely. “Tara drink beer?”

She didn’t understand the look Tara gave her, but Buffy liked the faint tide of pink that rushed up Tara’s face. “No, Buffy. I don’t drink,” Tara said quietly. “And you shouldn’t, either.”

“No beer?” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “Beer good. Buffy like beer.”

“Buffy’s never been much of a drinker,” Mom said. Holding out a hand to Buffy, she continued, “Honey, is that why the man was able to put you under a spell? You were drunk?”

The bad feeling was back. Buffy’s arms slid from her chest to her stomach as it roiled and cramped at Mom’s words. She stared at the older woman in confusion, wishing the sounds coming from the other woman’s mouth made sense. What had she done now? There was only one conclusion she could draw. “Buffy bad,” Buffy said sadly. “Make Mom mad.”

The hand reaching out to her retreated until it rested over Mom’s mouth. The tears glistening in Mom’s eyes didn’t make Buffy feel any better.

“No, sweetie. Your mom isn’t mad.” Tara stood up slowly and walked toward Buffy. “She’s just worried.” As if sensing Buffy didn’t understand the words, she stopped talking and smiled. “Buffy not bad.”

Buffy didn’t believe Tara until Tara’s hand touched her shoulder. The solid, warm contact flushed away some of the fluttering in her stomach. Straightening a little, Buffy tried to put everything together. It was hard. The sounds… the words Tara, Mom, and the man said still didn’t make sense most of the time. “If not Buffy, beer bad?” Was that why Mom had been mad? Because the beer had been bad?


	19. Chapter 19

Buffy watched Tara intently. “Well, I guess it depends on who you ask, sweetie.” Tara’s hand moved from Buffy’s shoulder. It slid down Buffy’s arm until Tara gripped her hand. “Come on. Let’s sit down and talk about the bad beer.”

Even though she didn’t understand Tara’s words, Buffy purred softly from the way Tara’s touch made her feel. She happily followed Tara back to the chair. Still clutching Tara’s hand, Buffy climbed into the cushy seat – and frowned in displeasure. Tara wasn’t sitting down with her. “Tara sit,” Buffy ordered.

That earned her a small smile – and this time, Buffy didn’t smile back. Tara’s smile wasn’t real. She could tell because Tara’s eyes weren’t smiling, too.

Reaching deep into her mind, past the confusion and the lingering anger, Buffy found what she needed. “Please,” she said. “Tara please sit.” Anxiously, she waited to see if Tara’s nice smile would come back.

It did – and Buffy grinned in response.

When Tara also sat down, Buffy beamed. Then she quickly climbed onto Tara’s lap. “Thank you.” The words came automatically, and Buffy didn’t spare any time wondering how she knew what to say. Her attention was all for Tara.

***

Trapped in the chair by Buffy’s weight, Tara stared helplessly at Mrs. Summers and Rupert. Her face burned at the bewildered looks she was receiving from the adults in the room. This couldn’t be happening.

As if to mock her thought, Buffy’s hand combed through Tara’s hair. Seconds later, the combing turned into…picking.  Strong fingers probed Tara’s scalp and lifted and pulled at her hair.

“It is imperative that we find a way to return Buffy to normal,” Rupert announced. He grimaced at Tara’s glare. “Forgive me for stating the obvious. I am fully aware that you understand the situation. I was merely…emphasizing the urgency.”

It might actually have been a good thing Buffy had Tara trapped in the chair. She was giving serious thought to showing Rupert just how _urgent_ she found her current predicament.

“Let’s emphasize some possible solutions, Rupert.” Mrs. Summers patted his thigh. “Tara, if you can’t use a spell to put Buffy to sleep, is there another way to keep her calm?” She shrugged slightly. “I admit I don’t understand magic very well, but Willow always seems to know some ritual or other.”

And that was why Faith had been willing to ask Tara for help. Keeping that to herself, Tara worked on extricating her head from Buffy’s grasp. “I don’t think so,” she said. “As I said, without knowing the original spell, it would be dangerous to try. Besides,” Tara added, grabbing one of Buffy’s probing hands and pulling it away from her hair, “I’m not sure we need it.”

“Why is that?” Rupert didn’t seem impressed with Tara’s answer. “Buffy is still a threat, and it is clear we cannot control her should she become agitated.”

“Didn’t you notice that her speech is getting better?” Tara sagged in relief as she managed to tuck Buffy’s right hand into her lap and hold it there. Now she needed to grow a few more arms to get the other one out, too.

She caught the look Rupert gave Mrs. Summers. “You believe the spell is wearing off because Buffy said, ‘please?’ While it is exceedingly unusual for her, I do believe Buffy is familiar with the word.”

For an instant, Tara wondered if she could get Buffy interested in grooming Rupert. Was he always this dense and irritating?

Before she could voice her own frustration, the phone rang.

Buffy jerked at the shrill sound, and Tara went on full alert. “Phone,” Buffy informed her. Then, to Tara’s surprise, she settled back into Tara’s arms – and yawned. “Buffy tired.”

That single statement might solve many of their problems. Tara didn’t say anything, though. She merely sat very still as Mrs. Summers got up and hurried toward the kitchen.  Letting her eyes go unfocused, Tara allowed her inner sight take over. The room darkened at the edges and bright and shifting colors developed around Buffy and Rupert.

Tara ignored Rupert. She didn’t want to intrude on his privacy. Buffy…Tara firmly reminded herself that Buffy was a special case at the moment. She looked down at the woman curled trustingly in her lap. The raw power of the Slayer was easier to ignore this time. Tara knew it was there and expected it. Her target was deeper into Buffy’s aura. Sinking beneath the outer layer, Tara watched the pulsing golden color mutate and darken.

She relaxed and came out of her semi-trance with a smile. “You are tired, aren’t you, Buffy?”

Buffy nodded solemnly. “Tired.” Leaning more heavily into Tara, she placed her head on Tara’s shoulder. The hand occasionally picking at Tara’s hair slid down until Buffy’s arm wrapped around Tara’s shoulders. “Sleep now?”

“Sleep, sweetie,” Tara encouraged. It would give them (her, mostly) a respite from Buffy-watching and a chance to figure out what to do next.  Soft, warm breath caressed her neck as Buffy’s breathing grew even and deep. Fighting a shiver of response, Tara whispered, “Buffy?”

The body resting against her didn’t move. Buffy had already fallen asleep.

“Would you like me to carry her upstairs, my dear?” Rupert rose slowly from the couch and took a step in Tara’s direction.

Shaking her head, Tara turned down his offer. “No. Right now Buffy’s quiet.” She looked at him with a slight smile. “I don’t want to risk waking her and changing that.  If I’m right about the spell, she needs to sleep.” A feeling of unreality flowed through Tara as she continued. “It would be nice to have the real Buffy back.”

Rupert returned to his seat. “Indeed. And perhaps she will be able to shed some light on the apparent attack. I simply cannot believe the attack was directed _at_ Buffy.”

“It wasn’t.” Mrs. Summers stood in the entryway. “I just talked to Willow. Apparently there are reports all over town about drunk college students acting like Neanderthals.” She walked into the room and glanced at Buffy. “At least _that’s_ a step in the right direction.”

“Did W-Willow have any more information?” Tara was trying to piece things together. “About the st-students affected by the spell?”

Mrs. Summers dropped onto the couch. “The only concrete information they had so far was that all of the activity – except for the bar where we found Buffy – was on Greek Row. She and Faith are tracking down some leads.” At Rupert’s disbelieving look, she chuckled. “I’m quoting her exact words. I’m sure, though, that they are safely at the apartment with Willow chained to the computer.”

“Let us hope they stay that way,” Rupert said dryly. “Faith has an alarming tendency to charge off without warning or any recognizable plan.”

Tara didn’t pay attention to their comfortable chatter. All of the occurrences had happened in a specific location. “Why Greek Row?” she asked abruptly. “Why target only those specific college students? And if they _were_ the target, how did Buffy and the others at the bar come in contact with the warlock?”

Rupert and Joyce turned in her direction. “Buffy mentioned that there were a lot of Halloween parties coming up,” Joyce responded. “She and Faith were going to do a lot of patrolling there for the rest of the week. I think they’ll have to spend most of their time outside the frat houses. It’s been a few years since my college days; however, Neanderthal frat boys would certainly make for a chaotic Halloween.”

It made sense. Still, Tara wondered if they were missing something.

“Bloody hell!” Rupert shot off the couch.

His voice rose above the near-whisper they’d all been previously using, and Buffy jerked in Tara’s arms. With a sleepy grumble, she partially opened one eye. When no one moved or spoke, she grunted once and wrapped her arm more tightly around Tara’s shoulders. Her eye closed and her breathing evened out again.

The silence lasted for several minutes. Finally, though, Rupert whipped off his glasses and continued in a low, disgusted voice. “After all these years, surely Ethan would not try his mischief here again.”

His comment made no sense to Tara. However, Mrs. Summers’ eyes went wide. “You don’t think he’s back? I thought, after the last time…” She broke off and groaned. “Does this mean we’re about to face another Mayor with dreams of eating Sunnydale?”

The question broke Rupert’s solemn mood. He smirked and replaced his glasses. “I believe those only occur once in a lifetime, Joyce.”

Not really wanting to interrupt, Tara nevertheless needed an explanation. “Wh-Who is Ethan?” There were dozens more questions bouncing around in her mind. This seemed the most important, though.

“A bloody nuisance,” Rupert answered immediately. Then, with a sigh, he rubbed at the back of his neck. “Forgive me. He is far more than that. Ethan Rayne is a man who has, more than once, used his magic and his love of chaos to disrupt what little order and peace the residents of Sunnydale have. This latest ‘attack’ follows his usual pattern: a spell placed on an item in such a way to affect a large and seemingly random group of people.”

The group of people seemed evident. “How did he p-plan to get to the st-students?” she asked. Then Buffy’s last comment came back to her. “The beer? Could he have done something to the beer? You said,” Tara directed this to Mrs. Summers, “that Buffy rarely drank, but she seemed r-really interested in another b-beer a few minutes ago.”

“As much at the mother in me wants to say there would be no drinking at all the Halloween parties…” Mrs. Summers grimaced. “They would be the perfect target.” She stood again. “I’ll call Willow back. Maybe there is a way to trace which of the Houses shared a delivery with Jack’s.”

“And please stress that, when we have the information, Faith should wait for us to join her before visiting the supplier,” Rupert pointed out. Once Mrs. Summers was gone, he settled deeper into the couch. “I’m sorry you have been caught up in all this, my dear. However, given the nature of the attack, I am very glad to have your help. Ethan has grown more powerful and more devious than I would ever have imagined. I am deeply concerned about your run in with him earlier.”

Tara regarded him steadily. “He h-has to be stopped, sir.” That said, she didn’t have a clue how to do that. The warlock – Ethan – had been too powerful for her to take on alone, even if she were skilled in offensive magics.

“Indeed. Another question continues to plague me: why? Is this merely an attempt to get petty revenge on myself and Buffy after his last defeat? Or has he allied himself with another?” Rupert absently tugged at the sleeves of his shirt. “While the former is not unlikely, given Ethan’s temperament, it is the latter possibility which is truly frightening. The last time he chose a partner, as it were, his actions nearly led to the Apocalypse.”


	20. Chapter 20

“Are there really that many people who this Ethan could t-team up with?” Tara understood Buffy and Faith, as Slayers, faced vampires and demons. Neither of those groups was known for organization and long-range plans, though, let alone an affinity for magic. Would normal humans even know that Slayers existed? And...Her mind ran in circles, trying to make sense of the situation.

Rupert nodded. “There always seems to be a new crop of enemies. We’ve discovered that the Hellmouth draws more than simply the usual types of evil creatures. I am not aware of any one in particular, at the moment, however.” Falling silent, he stared intently at Buffy. “Ethan is very fond of power, my dear. For him to ally with anyone – or any _thing_ – he would have to believe he would receive some reward or increase in stature. And that kind of entity…Well, I would have thought we would have had a hint of their arrival in town.”

When he fell silent again, Tara had nothing to contribute. His comments hadn’t really cleared up her confusion. She’d lived in Sunnydale for more than a year without encountering anything remotely like what Rupert had described. Of course, she acknowledged to herself, she’d spent all of her time in virtual hiding. She’d even avoided the local covens; Tara’s connections to anything magical resided solely in her spell books. Maybe it was time to change that. “H-have you thought of…”

“Willow thinks she has something.” Tara jerked in surprise when Mrs. Summers abruptly interrupted her suggestion. Hovering in the hallway, she continued. “I just got off the phone. It looks like we have our first clue.”

Standing, Rupert turned in Mrs. Summers’ direction. “Excellent. What did she find?”

Tara absently stroked a hand up and down Buffy’s back and listened to the conversation. The repetitive motion was soothing, as was the soft sound of Buffy’s breathing as she slept.

“A large shipment of beer arrived at Jack’s two days ago,” Mrs. Summers explained. “Willow’s still working on _where_ the shipment originated; however, all but two kegs were then delivered to three of the largest fraternities on campus. The same fraternities reporting ‘strange’ behavior from their members.”

“If you’re r-right,” Tara said quietly, “why did the tr-trouble start tonight?” She refused to look away when both Rupert and Mrs. Summers glanced in her direction. “If the beer was m-meant for Halloween, why t-tonight? Did something go wrong? And…why was E-Ethan at the bar and not on Greek Row?”

Neither adult responded.

Feeling herself flush, Tara tried to get them to understand. “The b-bar wasn’t crowded. Why go there? The fr-fraternities would give h-him more ch-chances to cause trouble. M-Maybe he r-really _was_ after Buffy.”

“A very good question, Tara. Perhaps we should look more closely at the patrons of the bar. I still do not believe Buffy was, in any way, Ethan’s intended victim. However, one of the others very well may have been.” Rupert strode toward the hallway. “I will join Willow and Faith and see if we can discover more about the shipment.”

Mrs. Summers started to follow him and then stopped. “I…” Frowning, she glanced at Buffy in apparent indecision. “You’ll have to keep us in the loop, Rupert.” She sounded frustrated as she continued. “I don’t want to leave Tara alone with Buffy.”

Buffy wasn’t a threat. Tara started to protest the bodyguard. The stern look Mrs. Summers gave her changed her mind. She wasn’t tangling with a clearly protective mother.

Without another word, Rupert hurried out of the house. The soft snick of the closing door was loud in the otherwise silent living room.

“Can I get you anything, honey?” Appearing restless, Mrs. Summers plumped the pillows on the couch and rearranged the knickknacks on the end table before striding to the mantle to peruse and align the photos there.

“No, thank you,” Tara murmured. She watched the other woman, wondering what was causing her frenetic energy. “Mrs. Summers? Is ev-everything alright?” Had Willow found something else? Something Mrs. Summers hadn’t told them? The hand stroking Buffy’s back grew more firm as Tara vowed to derail whatever plan Willow and Faith had uncovered.

With a soft chuckle, Mrs. Summers resumed her seat on the couch. “Nothing’s really wrong, Tara. Well…nothing that hasn’t been wrong all night.” She stopped and gazed at Buffy before seeming to make a decision. When she spoke again, her voice was determined. “I didn’t know anything about you - or Buffy’s stellar behavior at Hemery - until yesterday.”

It was the last thing Tara wanted to hear – or talk about. Shrinking back in the chair and pulling Buffy tighter to her chest, she started to protest. “Mrs. Summers…”

“I won’t offer excuses, honey. There aren’t any.” Mrs. Summers spoke over Tara’s objection. “Buffy was the perfect product of her upbringing.” A bitter smile twisted her lips. “A young, up and coming lawyer and his young, bored, and completely self-absorbed housewife. There should be a test for prospective parents, you know,” Mrs. Summers continued conversationally. “The first question should be: are you mature enough to raise a child.”

Squirming was out of the question, thanks to Buffy’s weight in her lap. That didn’t mean Tara wasn’t twisting and wiggling uncomfortably mentally. This was too personal. Too obviously painful for Mrs. Summers.

Before she could find a way to change the subject, though, Mrs. Summers raised her eyes. They were dark with memories. “I’m sorry you met the product of my and Hank’s incompetence as parents.”

The soft, blunt apology took Tara by surprise. “You d-didn’t do anything,” Tara said. Buffy had been the one making decisions. She’d been old enough to know, no matter what her home life, what her actions would do. “Pl-please, don’t w-worry about it.” Tension snaked through her, and Tara dropped her eyes, staring blankly at the top of Buffy’s head.

“I’m a mother, honey. Worry is what we do,” Mrs. Summers said wryly. The comment drew Tara’s reluctant gaze, and she couldn’t help returning the self-mocking smile Mrs. Summers wore. “You’ve been here for Buffy, even though I’m sure you’d rather be anywhere else. When she’s back to normal – or what passes for that since Buffy became the Slayer – I know she’ll thank you herself. All I’m asking is that you give her a chance, Tara. She really isn’t the same girl you knew. Sometimes, even I don’t recognize her.” Standing slowly, Mrs. Summers pulled an afghan off the back of the couch and draped it over Buffy’s shoulders. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Frozen by indecision, Tara didn’t reply as Mrs. Summers left the room. The conversation hadn’t been the stern scolding Willow and Faith had received. However, Tara ruefully acknowledged that the result had been similar. She deeply regretted the way she’d reacted to meeting Buffy in their shared dorm room – and there was no way she’d be able to turn away if Buffy wanted talk once the spell had lifted. “That’s a mom thing, too, isn’t it?” she asked the empty room and her sleeping companion. “Guilt…Mama was good at that.”

Buffy didn’t respond. Her soft breaths filled the silence, though. And Tara found herself matching the deep, slow pattern of inhales and exhales. Without conscious thought, she slipped into a light trance.

***

Buffy rubbed her face on the pillow under her cheek and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. The slight movement hurt. Tiny men with large hammers went to work in her head, and it pounded accordingly. She needed aspirin. An entire bottle. “I’m never drinking again,” she mumbled and cracked one eye open.

It was dark. That was good. Buffy had a feeling light – of any kind – would be very, very bad. Trying not to move too quickly, she searched for a clock. What time was it?

“Holy shit!” Snapping her eye closed again, Buffy prayed. This was a dream. That was all. Just a dream. Counting to ten, she repeated that over and over. Just a dream. At ten, she opened both eyes.

The view hadn’t changed. There was not clock. No familiar dorm room. Just Tara’s face, hovering mere inches away.

The pounding in Buffy’s head was suddenly eclipsed by memory. Snippets of conversation – all of it in Tara’s voice – and odd flashes of scenes.

            _Faith, poised for a fight, in front of Jack’s bar as Tara stood protectively in between them. “The magic on the door wasn’t the only spell. I think Buffy’s under a spell, too._ ”

            _More Faith – this time chasing her down the stairs and then into the kitchen._

Buffy moaned again. This time from an emotion far more damaging than pain. Embarrassment curled in her stomach and chest, making her writhe inside and a sending a blush over her neck and face.  She could actually feel Tara under her, see her wide-eyed look of shock and fear as Buffy straddled her. The blush got brighter and hotter.

Straddled Tara naked.

The images advanced. They didn’t let Buffy off the hook, though. Huddling into herself she remembered the shower she’d shared with Tara. The way Tara had dried and dressed her.

            _“By the time you’re back to normal, I’ll be owing you an apology, won’t I?”_

No, Buffy told the phantom Tara. She would never owe Buffy an apology. Shaking from the onslaught of emotion and memory, Buffy managed to get a hand free of the blanket and rubbed her temple. God, things with Tara had gone from terrible to… She couldn’t even find a word to describe how much worse she’d made the situation.

A sob burned her throat, and she fought it back. Crying wasn’t going to help. It never had before. It was time to make this right – if that were even possible. In a voice rough with unshed tears, Buffy whispered, “Tara? Tara, wake up.”

Almost immediately, Tara’s eyes fluttered open and focused intently on Buffy. “Sw-sweetie?” Buffy could see the way Tara watched her for a reaction and feel the way the other girl’s hands began to stroke her back under the blanket. “It’s OK. Go back to sleep. You need to rest.”

The offered out was tempting. So very tempting. Buffy resisted the lure, however. Lying about her condition wouldn’t help fix this. “I’m not tired anymore,” she said softly.

“I bet your mom…” Tara’s response was automatic. Then she broke off and the gentle massage stopped. “Buffy?” The color in Tara’s cheeks disappeared with alarming speed.

With a twisted excuse for a reassuring smile, Buffy responded to Tara’s unspoken question. “Yeah, it’s really me. No more cave girl.” She shifted out of Tara’s limp embrace and scooted off Tara’s lap. “You were right. The sleep seems to have gotten rid of the spell.” Keeping her voice level with effort, Buffy avoided the truly serious topics and stuck strictly to business. “Did Mom come back with more information from Giles and the gang yet?”

The gang. Buffy choked on the phrase and cleared her throat. She wanted to huddle on the floor under the weight on her shoulders. She owed more than just Tara a heartfelt apology.

“N-no.” Tara shrank back into the chair, clutching the blanket to her chest. “Th-they h-haven’t called b-back.”

The staccato stutter stabbed at Buffy. It hadn’t been so bad when Tara had been taking care of her. Buffy remembered Tara smiling and speaking almost flawlessly as she promised to keep Buffy safe. “I’m sorry,” she blurted in response to that memory. “I’m so sorry.”


	21. Chapter 21

It would have been too simple if Tara had accepted Buffy’s apology immediately. Instead, Tara’s eyes dropped to the floor and her hands plucked nervously at the arms of the chair. “I’m sorry,” Buffy repeated again – this time in an abject acknowledgement that she didn’t know how to make things right with Tara.

“It’s OK,” Tara whispered without looking up.

No! Buffy wanted to scream. It was far from OK. Taking a deep breath, she dropped to her knees and bent until she could look into Tara’s eyes. “I hurt you. I _know_ I hurt you, Tara. I was Princess Buffy when we met the first time, and you were my key to the kingdom.” Buffy paused, insides twisting at the tears obscuring the other girl’s eyes. “Nothing mattered except earning my place with the ‘in’ crowd.”

She would have continued if Tara hadn’t raised a shaking hand. “Pl-please don’t.” Still huddled in the chair, Tara continued. “It’s over, Buffy. W-We aren’t the same peop-people we were then.”

It was what Buffy wanted to hear – and yet it wasn’t enough. Tara had to understand how much she regretted her past actions. “It may be over, but you…You still remember.” And she hadn’t. Buffy closed her eyes against an image of Tara’s face when she’d come into the room yesterday morning. “It still bothers you, and I want you to know…” Trailing off, Buffy held out her hands. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Her stomach burned as she glanced past Tara and stared at the mantle. “This isn’t about me at all.”

Jumping to her feet, Buffy wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I’m surprised you haven’t run for the door or turned me into a frog.” Her lips twisted in wry, self-mocking humor. “Or a rat. Will’s got a great spell for that, if you want to borrow it.”

***

Even without using her inner sight, Tara could sense Buffy’s real regret and her patented disbelief that she would be forgiven. For years, Tara had imagined this moment. She’d fantasized about it.

Reality wasn’t as satisfying as her imagined scenarios.

Buffy’s embarrassment looked far too familiar. Tara remembered that cold, sick, crawling feeling in her stomach and the burn of the blush. Voice choked with that memory, she stuttered, “I w-would nev-never turn you into a r-rat.” Her own cheeks warmed, and Tara fought to get both of them onto more even emotional footing. “Their b-beady little eyes sc-scare me.”

It wasn’t much; however, it seemed to do the trick. Buffy’s giggle tinkled through the room. “Amy, Willow’s rat, isn’t like that,” she said softly. Looking more relaxed, she moved away from Tara and sat on the couch. “She’s a lot more…human sometimes.” Buffy ran a hand through her hair with a sigh. “Tara, I…I don’t even know where to start. Should I keep apologizing? If I say I’m sorry enough, will it help? I can’t take back what I did.” Both hands rose to frame Buffy’s face. “I wish I could.”

Hearing the words and seeing Buffy’s sincerity eased the weight holding Tara so deeply into the chair. She straightened slowly. “You don’t have t-to say it anym-more, Buffy. The past is over.” Smiling slightly, Tara met Buffy’s eyes. “I think the n-naked groping in the kitchen will g-give me enough leverage if you st-start getting mean again.”

Buffy groaned. “God, you can’t do that, Tara. You can’t.” She smiled back. “Faith is going to mention that every chance she gets. Not to mention the naked tag we played. I’ll never be able to step outside of the house if you both use that against me.” Tilting her head to the side, she asked in a little girl voice. “You wouldn’t do that, would you, Tara? You told Cave Me you’d keep me safe.”

The weight returned. Tara struggled to breath under the pressure. This time, though, it wasn’t from remembered humiliation. That look…the voice… Wanting to groan from the surge of renewed desire, she murmured, “Em-embarrassment won’t k-kill you.” Tara’s mother had told her that over and over.

“True. But it might make me kill Faith.” Buffy laughed again. “Will that change your mind?”

Holding firm, Tara shook her head. “No.” She needed to leave the room. Maybe putting some distance between them would help her get some perspective on what was happening. Tara’s head whirled. Her earlier reaction to Buffy in the shower and the bedroom…She understood that. Buffy had been naked – not to mention completely uninhibited. Now, though, Tara didn’t have an explanation for the way her body responded to Buffy.

She changed the subject abruptly. “Do you think we should check with your mother?” Buffy’s eyes widened at the question. “I mean…” Goddess help her. Tara dropped her head, taking refuge behind her hair and tried to pull herself together. “Ru-Rupert left a while ago to check on the information Faith and W-Willow found. Maybe they know how you were enspelled.”

“Damn. I am so not on my game right now.” Buffy stood in one smooth movement. “I can’t believe I forgot about that. You’re right. If we leave the gang on this alone for too long, Faith will get tired of listening to Will and Giles make plans and do more research and go charging off on her own.”

Tara wondered if there was something in the water of Sunnydale to cause all the babbling. Buffy’s words tumbled over one another at ever-increasing speed. “Um…” She climbed out of the chair and hesitated.

“Come on.” Buffy hadn’t noticed Tara’s lack of motion. She was already striding out of the room. “Mom’s still in the kitchen. I can hear her banging pots and pans around. I hope she made dinner. I’m starved. No way am I chasing after Faith and whoever spiked the beer on an empty stomach.”

As if pulled by an unseen hand, Tara followed Buffy. By the time she got to the kitchen, though, Buffy was perched on a stool at the island munching on a handful of chips.

“Have a seat, Tara. The rest of the meal will be ready in a few minutes.” Mrs. Summers narrowed her eyes at Buffy. “Ignore my daughter. Not all of her cave habits were a result of the spell. She’s very much: see food, eat food.”

Buffy stopped mid-chew. She looked very deliberately at Tara and then at Joyce – and grunted.

It was too much. Forgetting about her concerns about her reaction to Buffy, Tara giggled. “Did she at least ask about F-Faith and Willow before she started eating?” She found that teasing Buffy was easy, and she enjoyed the way Buffy went along with the joke.

“I did; thank you very much,” Buffy mumbled around her mouthful. She swallowed quickly. “Nothing new. Will’s still slaving over the keyboard and Giles has Faith burning off some energy patrolling around the frat houses in case there are other cases of cave people. We’re heading over to the apartment for a Scooby research party as soon as Mom gets dinner packed up.”

“Scooby?” Tara recognized the word. “We’re watching cartoons while we look for the wizard?”

Joyce coughed in a poorly executed attempt to hide a laugh. “Actually, it normally feels like we’re _living_ in a cartoon, honey.” Stacking a set of Tupperware containers on the counter, she pointed to Buffy. “When Willow and her friend Xander first discovered Buffy’s secret identity as the Slayer, they came up with the name. They’ve been the embodiment of Fred, Daphne, and Velma ever since.”

This was priceless. Not looking at Buffy so she could keep a straight face, Tara asked, “So…Buffy is Daphne?” She tried to sound innocent; she suspected she failed miserably as her voice shook with suppressed mirth.

Cave Buffy made another brief reappearance. Sliding off the stool, Buffy growled and glowered at Tara. “Tara bad. Make fun of Buffy.” She stalked toward Tara with her hands outstretched and her fingers flexing threateningly.

“Which character would you prefer, Buffy?” Mrs. Summers winked at Tara. “Fred? I’m not sure you’d look good in an Ascot.

Buffy’s advance slowed, and Tara used the extra time to hide behind a kitchen chair. “That only leaves V-Velma, and I’m pretty sure Willow has that one lo-locked up.” She shared a grin with Mrs. Summers.

“Fine. I give up,” Buffy said, raising her hands in the universal symbol of surrender. “Even without the spell, I’m no match for the two of you.” Her lower lip protruded in a pout as she resumed her seat at the island. “How long until we’re ready to roll, Mom?” For a second, Tara thought she seemed uncomfortable. “Maybe I should head on over to Will’s, and you and Tara could follow.”

Tara’s mental light bulb went on. “Wh-Why don’t I go with you?” she asked softly. “I can work with R-Rupert on the magic angle while you…talk with W-Willow?” There was no way Buffy would have an opportunity to make amends with her best friend if Rupert were there as an audience.

Her offer got a reaction from Buffy _and_ Mrs. Summers.

“You don’t have to go.” Buffy was the first to speak. “I mean, I’m not all Cave-y anymore. I promise I won’t growl at Will again.”

On her way to the stove, Mrs. Summers reached out and poked Buffy’s arm. “I don’t think Tara is afraid you’re going to start attacking people, Buffy. She’s been helping us since before we discovered you at the bar. In fact, she’s the one who found out about the spell.” Mrs. Summers glanced at Tara, meeting her eyes as she continued. “Let her help you with Willow and Rupert.”

“OK,” Buffy said reluctantly. She hopped off the stool. “Remember, Mom – take the Jeep and call before you leave. One of us will be watching for you. No trying to carry the food in on your own.  It’s dark outside.”

This must have been an old argument. Mrs. Summers rolled her eyes. “Yes, Buffy,” she singsonged. “I promise not to go anywhere dark without an escort. I have stakes, holy water, and a cross in my jacket pocket. If anything seems wrong, I’ll go to a well-lit, public place and turn on the Bat Signal.”

Tara had to hide a grin by rubbing at her face when Buffy grumbled and stomped out of the kitchen. She turned to follow when Mrs. Summers spoke again. “Thank you, Tara.”

Stopping, Tara looked over her shoulder. “I d-don’t mind helping. Buffy’s fr-friends don’t seem to know a lot about magic.”

 “I don’t mean with the magic – and you know it.” Tara shifted under Mrs. Summers’ patently maternal expression. “Don’t try to snow me, young lady. Buffy may not have figured out why you’re tagging along. I have.” The look softened. “She needs to apologize and talk to Willow. Poor Rupert will be so into his research and finding out if it is Ethan causing all the trouble, he won’t give the girls a chance to be alone. Thank you for helping make that possible.”

Blushing brightly, Tara murmured a choked, “You’re welcome,” and fled.

Buffy was waiting by the door. “Ready to go?” Without waiting for Tara to answer, she opened the door and stepped outside. “We should hurry. Faith’s patrolling alone, and, with the spelled beer out there, she might need a hand.”

She set such a quick pace that Tara had to run to keep up. “I th-thought you wanted to help Willow with the research?” And do some apologizing, too.

A tide of red swept up Buffy’s face. “I do,” she protested weakly. “I’m not really good with the book work, though. I’m sure Will and Giles would be happier if I was out with Faith. I’m the Slayer, after all. Patrolling and killing evil is what I do.”

Tara was fairly certain there was more to it than that.  She didn’t stop to consider her words. “You don’t want to talk with W-Willow, do you?” Tara asked.


	22. Chapter 22

Buffy stopped so abruptly that Tara cannoned into her back. “Buffy?” Was something wrong? Had her question upset Buffy?

“You’ve been here what? A day?” Resuming their walk - albeit more slowly - Buffy scowled at the sidewalk. “And you already see right through me. That can’t be good; not even Mom does that after all these years. You’ll know _all_ of my secrets soon.”

Now Tara understood. She’d been right about Buffy’s reluctance to approach Willow about what had happened between them. “How many secrets do you have?” she asked with a smile. They needed to keep this conversation light; too much seriousness might have Buffy running for campus and bypassing Willow completely. Tilting her head, Tara regarded Buffy closely. “I know about you being the Slayer, seen you without clothes, and I’ve watched you skate…minus the skates and ice. Is there something else I should see or hear?”

“Oh, God. I am so screwed.” Eyes wide with exaggerated fear, Buffy turned so she faced Tara. Walking backward with her hands raised as if to ward off an attack, she pleaded, “Don’t say any more. Please. Leave me at least the illusion that I’ll live today down.”

“Well,” Tara drawled. Her smile grew. “I might agree to that if…”

Buffy dropped her hands and sidled closer. “If?” Her shoulder brushed Tara’s. “If what? I make Mom promise to feed you for the rest of your life? I have Will do your homework? How about if Faith escorts you to and from all of your classes? Is that enough or do you want more?”

Enjoying the banter, Tara almost forgot the reason for their trip across town. However, Buffy’s mention of Faith did the trick. “I can’t _believe_ you.” She mock glowered. “Now you have me doing it, too. We are _not_ avoiding Willow any longer. We’re going to the apartment, where I’ll distract Rupert long enough for you to talk to your best friend, Buffy!”

***

It was the right thing to do. Intellectually, Buffy knew that; however, the realization didn’t help with the swarm of butterflies zipping around in her stomach. “Right. You’re right,” she mumbled. As Buffy  turned away from Tara, she tried to convince herself the talk with Willow wouldn’t be as bad as she imagined. They’d been through a lot already. Not to mention this wasn’t even the first time Buffy had been in the wrong or hurt Willow with something she’d done.

Somehow, the memory of her previous acts of random thoughtlessness didn’t make Buffy feel any more confident. The rest of the walk took on a macabre resemblance to a march to the gallows. Each step dragged at Buffy’s feet, and she was only dimly aware that she and Tara were barely moving.

“At this rate, we might get there tomorrow,” Tara said. “Your mom will be on her way, see us, and stop to give us a ride.”

Buffy squirmed under Tara’s disappointed look. “Well, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about her getting munched when she carried the food up to Willow’s apartment.” The excuse sounded lame even to her own ears. Sighing deeply, Buffy forced her leaden legs to pick up the pace. “But then I wouldn’t have a chance to talk to Will.” She had to do that.

“Exactly.” Tara said with a smile, and Buffy remembered the way she’d felt…or the way Cave Buffy had felt when she’d seen that expression back at the house. “That’s why I’m here: to make sure you get that chance.” She reached out and brushed Buffy’s arm with her hand, causing a shiver in Buffy she didn’t understand since it was a warm evening. “I’m sure she’ll listen to what you have to say.”

More likely, Willow would do all the talking. Buffy had no illusions about that. Willow had listened in the Bronze, and she’d listened to the growl and the “Buffy no like Willow” in the kitchen. To distract herself from the rapid-fire lecture she was anticipating, Buffy began scanning the area for vampires – and frowned. There weren’t any. Not a single blip on the Slayer radar. “That’s weird,” she said.

“Why is that weird?” Tara moved closer and peered at Buffy questioningly. “Willow didn’t s-seem like the kind of person who wouldn’t listen to your explanations.”

Oops. Buffy smiled slightly and shook her head. “No. Not that. I was searching for vampires nearby. It’s weird that I didn’t feel any. This is prime hunting time.” A seed of honesty made her admit, “Will _is_ a very nice person; a great friend, Tara. I hurt her a lot, and she’s going to be mad…”

“That’s to be expected, Buffy.” Tara’s eyes should be registered as lethal weapons.

Buffy flushed and wanted to flinch from the penetrating look she received. Flinch and throw herself into Tara’s arms and cry.

Before the first tear could fall, though, Tara went on. “People usually get angry when they are hurt. It’s a defense mechanism. True friends can get past that and forgive.”

Did that mean Tara would never be able to forgive what Buffy had done to her in the past? They weren’t friends. At least, not yet. Buffy straightened slightly. Tara had hung around to help with the spell, and now she was on her way to Willow’s because she had volunteered to keep Giles busy. Maybe friendship wasn’t completely impossible. “I hope so,” she said, not entirely referring to the situation with Willow.

Almost as if Tara sensed the double meaning, she tilted her head and frowned.

Rushing in to forestall any more questions, Buffy asked, “If we find Ethan, can you stop him? I mean, stop any spells he might try?” Willow had tried to explain the nuances of magic over the years, but Buffy had never really grasped the concept.

“I d-don’t know.” Tara glanced down, and her hair fell forward.

Buffy frowned. Why did Tara do that? It wasn’t like there was anyone else around, and she wasn’t about to make fun of Tara for not knowing the answer. She reached out and slid a hand into the waterfall of blonde hair before tucking it behind Tara’s ear. That was better. “OK. We’ll add that to the list of things to research. We can even give it a nifty name – Eradicating Ethan. Giles will be thrilled that I actually _want_ to do book work.”

They finally reached downtown. Buffy broke off and went on alert. The lack of evil had disappeared with a bang. There were hosts of vampires pinging on the radar now.

“Tr-trouble?” Tara appeared to notice something, too. Her eyes roamed the busy sidewalks restlessly.

“Not sure,” Buffy replied softly. “We’ve got company; although, I can’t pinpoint them.” It was making her nervous. The warning cramp from her senses increased the farther they got into the main business district – and she had yet to see any overt signs of the vampires. Stealth wasn’t normally their thing. Talking with Willow and Giles suddenly seemed even more urgent than before. Had they missed the signs of something big hitting town? Buffy’s pace picked up automatically at the thought. “Come on,” she told Tara tersely. “We need to hurry.”

Tara obligingly began to jog alongside her. She was panting after only a couple of blocks.

If Buffy hadn’t been in the grip of her Slayer senses, she would have slowed down. She didn’t feel as if she had that option at the moment. Wrapping her left arm firmly around Tara, Buffy half-supported, half-dragged Tara through the downtown area and into the residential district buffering the town’s center from the college. “Almost there,” she encouraged Tara. “That’s the complex up ahead.”

She got a grim head bob in acknowledgement, and then Tara pulled away slightly to run on her own.

They pounded through the side gate to the stairs, and Buffy slowed to a walk in order to keep from leaving Tara behind. The call of her senses be damned; they’d make it to the apartment soon enough. After an eternity, the fourth floor landing came into view. Buffy sprang up the last few steps and knocked energetically on Willow’s door. “Will, it’s me. Open up!”

The door wrenched open a second later. Willow stood just inside the entryway – and didn’t move to let Buffy in.

Buffy forgot all about the vampires. “Will…Um…” Floundering, she could only stare into Willow’s bloodshot and puffy eyes.

Tara came to her rescue. “Can we come in, Willow? I have some information for Rupert.” She didn’t wait for an invitation before stepping across the threshold and gently pushing Willow out of the way. “Why don’t you and Buffy get us some drinks while I fill him in on the latest?”

Drinks were the last thing on her mind as Buffy slipped into the apartment past a still-silent Willow. “Sure. We can do that,” she muttered. “Drinks for everyone.” If she was lucky, Willow wouldn’t brain her with the milk jug. Not looking back to see if Willow would follow, Buffy headed for the kitchen.

“No more Cave Buffy, I take it.” The soft, monotone announcement from behind Buffy indicated that Willow had, in fact, joined her in the drink hunt.

Slowly turning around and pressing her back against the countertop, Buffy nodded. “Just me, Will. Plain old, non-boozy, non-grunting, very, very sorry Buffy.” She watched Willow closely as she spoke, noticing the way her freckles seemed to glow against her pale face. “I’m sorry, Willow,” Buffy repeated.

Willow didn’t respond. She leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and crossed her arms.

Great. Feeling tears burn her eyes, Buffy crossed her own arms and bit her lip. “I screwed up, Will.” Then a stab of righteous anger wended through the regret. “You knew that, though. You _knew_ what I was like at Hemery. I told you before, even if…” The anger drained away, and Buffy’s voice dropped in volume. “Even if I didn’t give you details.”

Silence filled the kitchen again, and Buffy might have given up if she hadn’t seen the single tear making its way down Willow’s cheek.

“I apologized to Tara, Will, the second the spell wore off,” Buffy rushed on. “She said…she said she forgives me.” She tried a smile, feeling her lips twist into a wry grimace instead. “I’m not sure I believe her, though. What I did…It still bothers her, but she’s willing to give me a chance to make it up.”

“That’s nice,” Willow finally said. Her voice wavered and squeaked, and Buffy recognized the symptoms of a long crying jag in the tones.

The habits of a best friend had Buffy across the kitchen with her arms around Willow in seconds. “I’d never do anything like that now, Will. You know that. I’m not Princess Buffy anymore.” The body in her arms was stiff, and there was not even a hint the embrace would be returned. Buffy ignored that, though, and went on. “I’m sorry if what I told you made you disappointed in me. To be honest, _I’m_ disappointed in me. If you and Xan and the Slayer thing hadn’t happened, I’d probably be competing for the Queen of Mean title.” She tightened her arms around Willow. “I’m not – and that’s all because of you. _You_ , Willow.”

Willow’s head dropped until it rested on Buffy’s shoulder.

Buffy began to smile. This was familiar. Willow had forgiven her.

The internal celebration ended abruptly only a second later. “That’s not what it sounded like earlier, Buffy. You weren’t thanking me for opening your eyes to how big a meanie you’d been when I saw you in your mom’s kitchen.”

Oh, shit. “Will…” Buffy tried to interrupt.

She was too late. Willow’s soft voice continued on inexorably. “In fact, you didn’t even want me around anymore. You told me you didn’t like me – and you _growled_ to make that clear. Which is it, Buffy? Am I your best friend, someone who helps you keep Princess Buffy at bay, or am I just someone you used to like?”


	23. Chapter 23

“You’re my best friend, Willow!” Buffy didn’t even pause to consider that because it was a given. “What happened in the kitchen…” She wanted to writhe in embarrassment at the memory. “God, that wasn’t _me_ , Will.”

Willow didn’t accept that. “It was you, Buffy. Maybe you on drugs, but it was you.” Her voice broke. “I ran out on you when you tried to explain everything in the Bronze. What kind of best friend does that?” She wiggled and went to pull away from Buffy. “If I were you, I wouldn’t like me, either.”

Now it all made sense. It wasn’t just what Cave-Buffy had said; it was also what Willow had done and said to Buffy at the Bronze.Refusing to let Willow move out of her embrace, Buffy  whispered, “We both made mistakes, huh? I shouldn’t have sprung the news on you at the Bronze. I should have owned up a long time ago, but I was afraid. I knew what Cordelia did to you over the years, and I thought you’d lump me in with her and the Cordettes.”

“Not anymore, Buffy. _Never_.” Willow’s head rose from Buffy’s shoulder, and her tear-filled eyes met Buffy’s. “You’re _nothing_ like Cordelia!”

“Then why the big blow up?” Buffy had to know. “If you don’t think I’m like that anymore… _Why?_ ”

Lids dropped over Willow’s eyes, and her cheeks turned fiery red. “I don’t know, Buffy.” Stiffening in disbelief, Buffy started to demand a better answer and then Willow rushed on. “I mean, I was going to tell you it didn’t matter. That I understood what happened at Hemery. And…and all of a sudden, I was the old me, Buffy. Afraid and shy and bullied. I _hated_ those feelings.” Her eyes opened again; although, she looked somewhere near Buffy’s ear rather than make eye contact. “So I ran.”

“We’re some pair, Will.” Chuckling softly, Buffy let her hands fall to her side as she slipped away from the counter. “You freak at the return of defenseless Hacker Willow. And me?” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out cans of soda. “I think the whole world’s against me and nearly become a notch on a very notchy bedpost.”

“What?” Voice rising to a squeak, Willow surged forward and grabbed Buffy’s arm. “What do you mean? What happened, Buffy? Is that why you were in the bar?”

Buffy had forgotten that Willow didn’t know about her time with Parker. “Ah…” Not ready to make that admission, she blatantly changed the topic. “Can you grab some glasses, Will? The cans don’t feel very cold, and we’ll need some ice.”

Willow’s laser-like look burned into Buffy. “What happened, Buffy? I’m not letting you not talk about this!”

Of course she wasn’t. Grumbling, Buffy slumped and gave in. “Fine. I can’t believe you’re giving me Resolve Face over this.” She pouted and glanced at Willow. “That’s so not fair.” The look didn’t fade, and Buffy surrendered. “I met a guy at the Bronze – after you…left.”

“Do I need to have Faith make him sorry?” Willow asked immediately.

That got a laugh out of Buffy. “No, Will. If I wanted Parker to be all bruise-y, I could do it myself. I _am_ a Slayer, remember?” She grinned at Willow’s huff. “Nothing happened…then. I went to Mom’s, borrowed her shoulder for a long crying jag, and spent the night. Alone,” she reinforced. “When I went looking for you this morning, I ran into Parker again.” The story got harder from there. “We…we went back to his frat house. To meet some of his friends.”

Buffy stopped talking for a minute and concentrated on finding the glasses that Willow was obviously not going to supply. When the task was complete, she continued. “We did. Meet some of Parker’s friends and played pool. It was nice, and I thought it was going to be OK. Then, right before we left, I got a chance to look around his room while he talked with the guys.” The tinkle of ice in the empty glasses was loud; almost as loud as the remembered conversation she’d overheard in Wolfhouse. “Slayer hearing sucks sometimes, you know?”

“Buffy?” Willow reached out and took Buffy’s hand. It was warm in contrast to Buffy’s frozen one. “What happened? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Define hurt, Will,” Buffy whispered sadly. “I thought sharing a morning after kiss with Angelus hurt. I have to admit, though, that hearing my new friend and possible date discussing how many points he’d get for having sex with me rates pretty high on the Hurt Meter, too.”

It was clear they were back on familiar footing when Willow wrapped both arms around Buffy and held on tight. “I’ll turn him into a rat for you if you want, Buff. Let Amy have him.” Willow’s voice was fierce. “No one gets to hurt my best friend like that and get away with it.”

 The comment eased the ache in Buffy’s chest and she laughed softly. “Don’t worry about it. It’s the least of our problems right now. And…” She turned in Willow’s embrace. “I’ve got you back in my camp. Parker? Who needs him?”

Willow beamed. “Thanks, Buffy. I really am sorry for running away…”

To stop any more discussion of the past, Buffy placed a finger over Willow’s lips. “We’re good, Will. It’s over. Now,” she announced in a firmer voice, “let’s get the drinks poured and see what our newest Scooby and Giles have managed to dig up on Ethan Eradication.”

***

Tara padded into the small living room and sat down on the floor near Rupert. There were books piled haphazardly on every surface in the room. “H-Hi. Have you f-found anything new?” she stuttered, absently reaching for one of the large, leather-bound tomes on the coffee table in front of her.

“I’m afraid not, my dear.” Rupert sighed impatiently and glared at the book in his hands. “There is nothing in any of these that would shed light on what Ethan hopes to accomplish. No signs or portents that indicate some dire evil in the area. I cannot imagine why he has chosen to return to Sunnydale.”

“Didn’t you say B-Buffy defeated him the other times he was in t-town?” Tara looked up through the curtain of her hair. “Why would this Ethan need any more reason? It s-seems like he might be m-mad and out for revenge.” It made sense. After all, Tara ruefully acknowledged, she’d entertained similar thoughts about Buffy.

Rupert gave her a rueful smile. “I hadn’t considered than notion. It does make sense.” Breaking off, he slumped back against the couch and rubbed his chin.

Tara waited for him to go on. When he didn’t, she offered, “Shouldn’t we c-concentrate on finding Ethan? Or why he chose that par-particular spell?” She pointed to all of the books. “Do you think th-these are actually going to help with that?”

For a second, Tara thought she’d offended Rupert. Then his glare softened. “Perhaps. At least with the information on the spell. Although…” He stopped talking and sifted through a pile of books on the couch. “I’m fairly certain Ethan used this text for the basis of the spell. I have yet to uncover a _motive_ behind his selection. While throngs of Neanderthal college students would provide a disruption, it is not – by itself – enough of a distraction keep Buffy from her duties as a Slayer.”

Brow furrowed, Tara considered that. “It d-doesn’t seem like a big deal.” Relaxing enough to smile slightly, she said, “After all, even without a sp-spell, most colleges specialize in Cave Students when alcohol is involved.”

Rupert smiled back. “An alarming statistic, yes. If we are correct in our determination then Ethan must have had a second phase to his plot.”

Suddenly, a new piece of the puzzle dropped into place. “The vampires,” Tara said. She straightened and moved her hair out of her eyes. “On the way here, B-Buffy felt a lot of vampires downtown. We r-ran all the way here.” And then both she and Buffy had promptly forgotten about it when Willow opened the door. Tara shook her head. “I’m s-sorry I forgot to men-mention it.”

“Don’t worry, my dear. As soon as the girls are through…ah… _making our drinks_ ,” Tara looked up at the suppressed laughter in Rupert’s voice and saw his slight smile, “we can begin to examine that avenue. I’ll give Faith a call on her mobile phone, too, and have her make her way back in this direction.” He hunted through the research materials on an end table, finally holding aloft the handset to a cordless telephone. “I feel as if I’ve discovered buried treasure.”

As he began to dial, Tara refocused her attention on the magical text Rupert had indicated held information on Ethan’s spell. The tome was old, its pages yellowed and fragile. Carefully turning each page, Tara scanned the information, looking for…something to help explain Ethan’s plan.

Her perusal was interrupted by a clipped and impatient, “Faith! I am not _suggesting_ you to return to the apartment. I am _telling_ you!” from Rupert. When Tara glanced up, she noticed his face had turned red and his lips were pressed into a thin line as he listened to whatever Faith was saying on the phone.

Tuning out, as best she could, the increasingly heated conversation, Tara went back to the book. Rupert had been right; the basis for the caveman spell was here. She touched the aged paper gently as she read through the particulars. “It doesn’t make sense,” Tara whispered. The foundation of the magic fit – creating confusion and causing an age-regression in the victim. It didn’t explain Ethan’s motivation, or give any clues about his proposed goal.

“Bloody hell. That girl is trying to drive me mad.” Rupert returned to his seat on the couch and set the phone down with more enthusiasm than necessary. “She _argued_ with me about returning to the apartment to examine the new information on the vampires Buffy sensed.”

Although Tara had only met Faith the day before, the news wasn’t shocking. She didn’t mention that, however. “Did F-Faith find anymore of the ca-cave students, sir?” If Ethan had allied with the vampires, this would be a good time for a resurgence in spell victims on the campus. Faith and Buffy would be hard pressed to fight a battle on two fronts.

Rupert shook his head. “Not more than a handful, I’m afraid.” His look was grim as he continued. “Faith did, however, mention that she, too, had sensed a large contingent of vampires or demons on campus. It was one of the excuses she used in her attempt to avoid returning to help with the research.”

“You know Faith, Giles,” Buffy commented suddenly from the hallway. “She’s big on the Slaying. Maybe I should go join her. Research is fine, but… There were a lot of vamps downtown. It’s going to be a lot harder holding them off if we’re here, buried under the books.”

“Buffy, we don’t know if the vampires are even the threat. What if Ethan is simply waiting for the right moment to create more havoc with his magic?” Rupert pointed out. “Neither you nor Faith actually saw any of the alleged vampires. I would hate to have you searching for them if they are merely a decoy.”  Waving his hand at the piles of books, he stated, “These have all been deemed relatively useless. I think the remaining research may be more along the lines of a strategy session. We have reached the end of our resources, I’m afraid.”

Tara had to agree. She’d read the particulars for the spell several times, and nothing seemed to indicate it was anything more than an attempt to create widespread panic and chaos. And that had been mostly neutralized, thanks to the discovery of Cave Buffy. “Why w-would there be so many vampires on campus? Or…Or downtown?”

“Campus is a good place to feed,” Buffy said with a grimace as she shoved books off the coffee table, clearing a space for the tray of drinks in her hands. “Co-eds don’t usually pay attention when they walk home from a party, and guys never think they have to be careful. Plus, there are a lot of badly lit spots, too. Faith and I spend a big portion of our patrol time there these days.”

“You know…” Willow had already taken a seat on the floor near Tara. “I hadn’t thought about that. Faith came in a couple of nights ago, complaining about that. It doesn’t make sense. Not that vamps don’t like a tasty sorority-girl snack. That makes perfect sense.”

Tara saw both Buffy and Rupert close their eyes and bow their heads slightly at Willow’s rapid-fire chatter.

“I’m thinking about where the vampires come from.” Willow waved both hands as she talked. “They usually hide out in crypts and warehouses. Not a lot of those anywhere near campus. How come we haven’t found a nest of them in weeks? Where are they staying, Buffy?”


	24. Chapter 24

“I shudder to think we have somehow missed the massing of an army of vampires.” Slumping against the back of the couch, Giles rubbed the back of his neck. “Suddenly, I find myself missing our days at Sunnydale High School. We were far more likely to stumble upon likely dangers when we met in the library. It is exceedingly difficult to muster the same thoroughness now that we are all scattered across town.”

“Right,” Buffy agreed. She rolled her eyes. “Because it takes me a whole five minutes longer to walk from campus to your apartment these days. Not to mention that those of us not ready for retirement are actually more likely to have a personal life now that we aren’t living at the library.” Then she, too, slumped. “I guess I’m not really doing so much better at that, though…” 

Tara watched both of them for a minute. Lost in their own inner monologues, neither shook off their mood or seemed at all interested in continuing the strategy session. Trying to prod everyone back to work, she said, “W-Willow, where else could the vam-vampires hide? Don’t they usually s-stay in the cemeteries or…” She tried to remember what she had heard from Rupert and Joyce earlier. “…warehouses?”

At least Willow was still participating in the planning. “Yep. I don’t even want to think about the number of creepy old buildings Faith’s dragged me through. The area out by the docks is good, too. Not a lot of people out there and most of the structures are abandoned these days. On campus, though? Not so many good hiding spots.” She grinned suddenly. “I don’t remember any of the fraternities that require their pledges to avoid sunlight. I guess we aren’t looking for a fake frat house.”

Shaking off her moodiness, Buffy said, “Too bad. It would be nice if things were that simple. Can you just see the pledges? All pasty and dressed in their best seventies leisure suits. We’d spot them a mile away.”

“Since that is unlikely to happen, perhaps we might consider the possibility that there are caves or underground tunnels nearby?” Giles straightened and rejoined the conversation, too. “I believe I remember something from our research concerning the Mayor last year. Can you find us the topographical maps of the campus, Willow? They may be able to verify the information.”

“Sure.” Hopping up, Willow left the room. “Just let me grab my laptop, Giles.” Her voice drifted down the hallway, faint yet somehow still infused with her excitement. “I can hack into the university’s system in no time. Their electronic security is really bad. I keep emailing them about it, but they never listen.”

In a very quiet voice, Buffy mocked, “Well, I guess Will will teach them, huh?”

Tara giggled. “And if they c-catch her, she can simply say that she’d warned them and they hadn’t listened. This was Willow’s l-last attempt to m-make them see reason, after all.” She could picture the scene, too: a very righteous Willow upbraiding a group of middle-aged bureaucrats.

Even Giles cracked a smile at that.

“Hey, what’s so funny? Did you figure out the hiding spot without me?” Willow asked with a pout as she returned clutching her computer. Resuming her seat on the floor, she shook her head. “What am I saying? I know better. There aren’t even any open books around. You’ve just been making fun of me, haven’t you? Good Old Reliable Hacker Will…”

Starting to stiffen at the accusation, Tara saw the way Willow watched Buffy as she talked – and the smirk she wore. This wasn’t serious. This was some kind of good-natured payback. She relaxed back into the chair and watched their interaction, enjoying the easy camaraderie.

Buffy confirmed her suspicions about Willow’s revenge by blushing brightly. “Will! I said I was sorry! Come on…” Holding her hands out in supplication, she pleaded, “Don’t be mean. I won’t ever take you for granted again. I remember what happened the last time.”

The front door flew open suddenly, cutting off the rest of Buffy’s comments. “Last time?” Faith asked as she stepped into the apartment. Her arms were loaded with Tupperware containers. “Did I miss the fun, B? You about to go all Cave-y and mouth off to Red again?”

The atmosphere in the room chilled, and Tara prayed that things wouldn’t escalate. Faith and Buffy appeared ready for more than a verbal discussion.

Buffy scowled at Faith. “No,” she said shortly. “But I might have a few things to say to you.”

“Girls, I don’t care if Buffy is about to revert and go hunting the Little People. I need a hand getting the rest of dinner into the kitchen so we can eat. Stop with the attitudes and do something useful.” Joyce appeared in the doorway carrying more containers.

Buffy’s scowl only deepened. “I thought you were going to call when you got here.”

“Don’t climb on your soapbox, B. I found Mrs. S in the parking lot. If it makes you feel any better, she was punching numbers into her cell when I knocked on the window.” Faith grinned suddenly. “Nearly got my ass staked, too. She’s got wicked reflexes.”

Everyone except Buffy laughed. “You probably deserved it.” Finally, though, Buffy seemed to lose her irritation. “Good thing Mom missed. Will just forgave me for my Dumb Buffy Day; I don’t think she’d be so nice over Staked Faith.” She hopped off the couch and pulled most of the Tupperware out of Joyce’s hands. “Come on. I’m starving.”

In the blink of an eye, everything was back to normal. Feeling a little off-balance from the rapid shifts in mood, Tara turned to Willow. “Is it always like this?”

With a gamin grin, Willow said, “Oh, no. This is tame. If they’re both having tantrums, it usually ends up in a fight. This was just a little Slayer posturing. They both want us all to think they’re Top Dog.”

She didn’t sound at all upset by that, and Tara wondered if Buffy friends needed psychiatric help.

Glancing around to see if Rupert or Joyce were paying attention, Willow lowered her voice. “Don’t tell Faith I told you, but…it’s all for show. Buffy and Faith may not always get along, but I think they pick at each other because they enjoy it.”

Wanting to shake her head at that bit of logic, Tara murmured a soft, “Oh. OK,” and let the subject drop. If she spent too much time thinking about it, her head would explode. Instead, she got up and looked around the room. “Should we help Mrs. S-Summers set things up, too?” Or clean up the literary debris in the living room? She’d seen the kitchen. It wasn’t large enough to hold all of them.

“Nope. We’ll eat in here.” Willow didn’t bother moving from her spot on the floor. She returned to typing on her laptop as she talked. “Welcome to your first official Scooby Research Party. Pull up a book or scroll and have some dinner. Just be careful not to spill anything on the pages. It makes Giles cranky.”

***

Buffy led the procession into the kitchen. The back of her neck itched and her shoulders knotted with tension. When was Faith going to start? Waiting wasn’t her style, and she had so many new things to bring to the table this time. The earlier jibe had been only the beginning, she was sure.

“So, B, did Will find anything while I was out keeping the peace?” Faith asked. She squeezed past Buffy and dropped her armload onto the counter. “’Cause I got to tell you, there wasn’t much happening on campus. I mean, from the way you were actin’ at the house, I figured there’d be fights and naked tag all over the place.”

There it was. Now that the teasing had started for real, Buffy felt marginally better. She hated the anticipation the worst. “Ha ha. You’re funny, Faith.” Narrowing her eyes, she glowered for effect and put her load of food on the table. “Willow _did_ find something. Or…she was looking for it. You and Mom came in before we got to the good part.”

As usual, Faith looked ready to charge out the door at the news. “We gonna need the heavy stuff or will stakes do? I got this new sword that Red found on e-Bay.”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Buffy crossed her arms. “Faith, we don’t have the information yet. Where would we go with the new sword? What would we kill with it?” She had to pause to move out of Joyce’s way.

It was long enough to let Faith back into the conversation. “Right.” Was that a slump in Faith’s shoulders? Buffy wasn’t quick enough to get a second look because Faith stalked to the refrigerator and yanked open the door. “So we still ain’t got a plan. Do you at least know if it’s the costume man doing all this shit?”

“That’s the last I heard.” Buffy refrained from saying anything more. If she did, they’d end up in a fight and she wasn’t up to that. It really had been a long day - not to mention she didn’t want to give Willow another reason to be upset with her. “The big news now has to do with all the vamps we’ve felt in town. Tara and I got a taste of them downtown. It nearly blew my head off, and I tried to turn Tara into a marathon runner to get here before we got munched.”

“Talk and carry, ladies.” Joyce held out a large tray filled with plates of spaghetti. “The bread and silverware are ready to go, too,” she added with a significant look at a second (smaller) tray on the counter. “You know how Willow and Rupert like to have an audience for whatever they’ve discovered. At least if you’re eating while they talk, there’s less chance you’ll fall asleep.”

Faith snorted. “Nah, I ain’t gone to sleep during the research thing since Red cracked me in the head with that spell book. Think I still got a bump.” With a wink, she took the tray out of Joyce’s hands. “The food’s a good idea, though, Mrs. S. Keeps me from sayin’ something stupid and getting her all riled up.”

Feeling a sense of déjà vu, Buffy picked up the second tray and trotted after Faith. The research gang hadn’t moved; although, she noticed a few cleared areas amid the piles of books. Depositing her tray on one of these, Buffy handed a napkin and utensils to Giles.

“Thank you, Buffy.” He immediately shook out the paper napkin and perched it on his knee. “Are we ready to proceed? I believe Willow has the information on the area around campus, and I am curious if we were correct about possible locations for the vampires.”

“I guess.” Buffy cocked an eyebrow at Faith as she shoved plates of food at Tara and Willow. “Faith’s nearly finished handing out dinner.” Making sure to keep up with her part, she quickly set out more napkins and silverware before sitting on the floor across from the couch. “What do you have for us, Will?”

She caught Willow with a mouthful of bread. Chewing frantically and waving one slender hand, Willow tried to clear her mouth. After a few seconds, she said, “Giles was right, guys. There are tunnels under the campus. And caves. Not under the campus. Around campus. You know…” She seemed to realize she was babbling, and Buffy watched her press her lips together as if to stop the flood of words. When Willow resumed talking, her voice was more controlled. “The tunnels were part of the old maintenance plan, but they’ve been sealed off for years. I do have a map, though. I couldn’t find anything specific on the caves.”

Sealed off… “You mean, the tunnels _were_ sealed off,” Buffy murmured as she placed her plate on her knee and twirled spaghetti around the tines of her fork. “If there are a lot of vampires moving in, I don’t think we can assume those tunnels are closed anymore. That has to be where the vamps are. You said Faith felt the vampires on campus; unless I heard you wrong, that makes the caves a bad choice. ” Why would there be a horde of vampires hiding under the college?

“Why?” Faith asked around a mouthful, echoing Buffy’s thought. Her words were garbled as she continued. “We ain’t seen anything about a new Master, and there hasn’t been a big body count. If we got so many vamps, what are they eating? Fang’s the only one that don’t mind the rats – and he’s in LA.”

“Indeed; that is an excellent question, Faith,” Giles responded. “From your and Buffy’s reports lately, demonic activity has been quiet.” Frowning, he idly pushed the food around on his plate. “When did you begin to sense the increase in vampires on campus?”

This time, Faith held up a hand as she chewed and swallowed. “’Two, maybe three weeks ago.”

She’d known all this time and hadn’t said anything? “You should have told us, Faith.” Buffy put down her fork and glared at Faith. “What if we could have stopped…” Her words trailed off. They didn’t even know there was anything _to_ stop. Not letting that slow her for long, Buffy forged on. “…whatever before it got started. My Slayer senses were so freaking tonight.”


	25. Chapter 25

“Sure, B. The next time I got a itch in the Slayer senses, I’ll just give you a call,” Faith said. Raising a hand and pretending to hold a phone to her ear, she continued. “Hey, B…I just did a trip through Restfield. Got me some vamps on the radar.” She paused and met Buffy’s eyes. “Nah. Can’t tell where…No. Couldn’t get a count, neither. Think it’s something big, though. It’s like a gong going off in my head.”

For a second, Buffy wondered if the fork in her hand was going to survive. One end bent under her grip as she glared at Faith. “It would have been better than…”

“W-Willow,” Tara interrupted suddenly. “Do you th-think we could take a look at the tun-tunnels? Was there a m-main entrance?”

Reluctantly, Buffy looked away from Faith and concentrated on the planning session. To keep herself from saying anything further, she stuffed a huge bite of spaghetti into her mouth and chewed.

“Um…yeah. I think there are a few places we could get in.” Willow typed quickly and then spun her laptop around so they all had a view of the screen. “One at the edge of campus by the Field House, one near the psychology building, and one close to the dorms.” Before Buffy got a good look at the map, Willow flipped the laptop again. “Give me a minute. I’m going to access all of the old maintenance reports. If the records are good enough, I might be able to see if there’s a chance one of the entrances isn’t as blocked as we think.”

“Is that the best plan?” Joyce shifted on the couch. “I know it’s the Scooby way to charge in with stakes raised, but this seems a little thin on planning.”

Buffy stifled a sigh. Couldn’t her mother come up with something new? It was the same question every time a new evil dropped in for a visit. “Mom,” she started softly, “we can’t plan if we don’t have more information. We can’t get more information unless we check out the tunnels.” Then, because she really didn’t want to brush off the concern, Buffy tacked on, “I promise we’ll be careful. I’ll put Faith on a leash and I won’t let her run off on her own.”

The second Buffy stopped talking, a piece of garlic bread smacked into the side of her head. “That wasn’t nice!” Willow pointed a slender finger at Buffy and narrowed her eyes.

Despite the scolding, Buffy saw Willow’s lips twitch. “Give it up, Will. You know I’m right.” Then, going in for the kill, she added, “And I bet you’re thinking that maybe I shouldn’t be the one holding onto the leash, huh?”

Bulls’ eye. Willow’s face went crimson and her mouth opened and closed silently.

Raising her hands in victory, Buffy did a seated version of a victory dance until Giles cleared his throat. “As amusing as you may find the situation, Buffy, I’m afraid we _do_ need to come up with a strategy. While I agree that you and Faith should explore the tunnels, I do not want to place either of you in unnecessary risk.”

“Ain’t gonna be any risk, Tweed,” Faith growled. “Not to me, anyway.” She glared at Buffy. “The Princess’ll be too tied up to tag along and get in the way. There’s more than  one use for a leash.”

Buffy flashed Faith a big smile. “What’s the matter? Can’t you take a little teasing?”

She might have pushed too hard. Only Willow’s hand on Faith’s arm seemed to be keeping the other Slayer from springing at Buffy. “Might want to be careful, B. I mean…I’m thinking you don’t remember this afternoon. I ain’t the best artist in the world; that don’t mean I can’t see how good you’d look on paper. Cave Buffy in all her glory – and me havin’ to hold her under the water to scrub her up.”

The words hung in the air, and Buffy’s smile disappeared. “You wouldn’t.” Even as she protested, Buffy knew that Faith _would_.

“Got me a sketch book in the bedroom, B,” Faith said, confirming Buffy’s fears.

Fine. If Faith wanted to be that way, it was time to get back to work. “What do you want us to do, Giles?” Turning away from Faith’s triumphant smirk, Buffy steered the conversation back to the task at hand. “It seems simple enough. Faith and I head to campus, see if the tunnels are blocked. If not, we do a little vamp killing.”

“Wh-what if it’s not just vam-vampires?” Tara’s soft question brought Buffy up short. “I know th-that’s what you f-felt in town. We h-haven’t found the m-mage, though. Do you th-think he might be th-there, too?”

“Uh…” Magic wasn’t something they’d had to deal with before, and Buffy floundered. “I guess so.” She looked at the closest thing the Scoobies had to a magical expert – Willow. “What do you think, Will?”

Shrugging, Willow said, “He might. If he’s teamed up with whatever you and Faith felt.”

“OK then. If he _is_ there, what do we do? How do we stop him?” This was more like it. Buffy relaxed against the couch as things started to come together. They’d have the plan Giles wanted in no time. Her relaxation lasted mere seconds, though.

“Don’t ask me, Buffy.” Unfortunately, Willow seemed to have willingly abdicated her position as Magic Girl. “I’m still a beginner in all things arcane. When we ran into the mage – who we only _think_ is Ethan – Tara was running the show. I was just along for the magical roller coaster ride.”

***

Tara had to grit her teeth and force herself _not_ to duck her head as she suddenly became found herself in the spotlight with everyone looking at her. “I…I’m n-not an expert,” she stuttered. Not by a long shot. “And the man at the b-bar was m-more po-powerful than I am.”

The news met with resistance. “It won’t be just you against him, T,” Faith assured her. “We’ll be there – me and B.” She winked and waved a hand at Buffy. “There ain’t anything that can beat the Chosen Two.” Her words broke off in a pained grunt. “Fuck, Red, what was that for? I was bein’ nice to B, just like you wanted.”

“Whoo hoo,” Willow answered dryly. “It might have been nice, but you left out something important.” Her eyes narrowed as she glared at Faith. “Tara won’t be alone because you, Buffy, _and I_ will be there to help. You and the Cave Slayer over there are good with sharp, pointy things. When the magic starts flying, though, I don’t see you chanting in Sumerian and lobbing fireballs.”

“W-Willow, I don’t…” Tara wanted to protest that last part. Lobbing fireballs? What kind of magic had the other girl been practicing?

Unfortunately, Faith interrupted before Tara could complete the comment. “No way, Red. No way! You ain’t goin’.” She appeared to square off with Willow; although, neither one of them moved an inch. “Like Giles said, we don’t have any info. Who knows what shit’s using the tunnels for a home? You can go after me and B figure things out.”

“I agree with Faith.” Buffy leaned closer to Tara, pulling her attention away from the increasingly heated discussion.

“You don’t w-want Willow to go?” In deference to Buffy’s quiet voice, Tara whispered her response. She was confused. Hadn’t Willow indicated earlier that she often went with Faith on patrol? “Why not? I m-mean, I do-don’t th-think she’ll need to do any big spells, and I w-won’t let her ch-charge off to f-fight if something happens.” Tara’s confusion faded and she nearly giggled as a sudden image of Faith and Willow in matching leashes popped into her head.

Not laughing proved to be a good choice, though. Buffy rolled her eyes. “No, Tara. I don’t want _you_ to go. Will’s been in the fight since the beginning. She knows the score and she knows when to duck behind a tombstone and let me and Faith do our thing.” Reaching out, Buffy touched Tara’s arm lightly. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Tara.”

Buffy was serious. Her eyes met Tara’s steadily.

The hand on her arm was warm and strong. Tara stared at it, watching Buffy slowly stroking over her forearm and hand. “Sw-sweetie, I promise, nothing will happen to me.” Tara felt her cheeks heat from Buffy’s unexpected concern. “Really.”

“I ain’t arguing no more!” Tara jumped at Faith’s near bellow; she didn’t look away from Buffy, however.

Placing her free hand over Buffy’s, Tara smiled slightly. “You don’t w-want to have to fight with me the way Fa-Faith is fighting with Willow, do you? I only l-look like I ca-can’t defend myself.” She deliberately pushed the memory of the vampire from the Student Union out of her mind. Tara was expecting there to be trouble if they went searching in the tunnels. She’d be ready this time. “I don’t do f-fireballs, Buffy, but I _can_ do other th-things.”

She could see Buffy’s disbelief in her frown and furrowed brows.

This called for a demonstration. Tara told herself she wasn’t showing off as she closed her eyes and centered. She only needed to do something small…It was an easy task to touch the nearest ley line and pool a tiny reservoir of borrowed energy. “Watch, Buffy,” she said. Releasing her hold on Buffy, she cupped her hand and poured the power into a single Word.  Blue flames shimmered from her outstretched palm.

“Son of a bitch!” Buffy’s pulled away from Tara so sharply that she bumped into the couch.

Tara – and her hand – resumed their spot at the center of attention. Even Faith and Willow gave up discussing who would be going into the tunnels to stare. Tara squelched the urge to close her hand and hide the magical display. “S-see?” she said instead. “If an-anything gets past you and Faith, I c-can do this. Or…” She hesitated. There was another, more effective spell, in her mother’s spell books.  “Or I c-can do a s-sunlight spell. It’s a lot more powerful.”

“You can do that?” Willow abandoned her argument with Faith entirely and nearly dove across the space separating her from Tara. She peered excitedly at the flames still flickering in Tara’s palm.

If she was honest… Tara hedged her answer. The truth wouldn’t convince Buffy to let her go with them to the tunnels. “I kn-know the spell.” Maybe with Willow’s help, she could muster enough power and control to get it to actually work.

“Huh. If the girls have got that kind of mojo, B, they should be safe. Besides,” Faith gave a patently fake smile, “it ain’t like we’re gonna go in with stakes flying. Mrs. S was wrong about that. All we’re doing is looking. You know, gathering some info.”

Surprisingly, no one commented on the unlikelihood of Faith (or Buffy) following that plan.

“Take the Jeep.” Joyce broke the silence by tossing her car keys to Willow. “Rupert and I will stay here and search through the books again. If you find anything…” Her gaze rested on Faith. “…or you run into trouble, call.”

Faith looked mutinous as she climbed to her feet. “I can’t believe you, Mrs. S. I thought you’d be different than B. Nicer or something.” Her booted feet thudded into the floor as she stalked toward the door. “You’re making it sound like I go lookin’ for a fight.”

“Sorry, honey,” Joyce said, and Tara nearly giggled at her unrepentant smile. “I _am_ nicer than Buffy – but that doesn’t mean I can’t see the truth. When you and my daughter are together, bad things seem to happen. I’m just making sure that the two adults with you,” she pointed at Tara and Willow, “understand my expectations.”


	26. Chapter 26

Willow brandished the car keys. “Sorry, Mrs. Summers. You know how Faith gets…”

A headshake and a wink answered her apology. “Go on, honey. After all these years – and raising Buffy – I’m used to tantrums. Get the information we need and come back safe. That’s all I want,” Joyce murmured.

For a second, Tara thought that Buffy might actually demonstrate her own displeasure at the teasing. She didn’t, however, contenting herself with a dramatic sigh and rolled eyes. “Hurry up, Will. Faith’s been outside for more than a couple of minutes. I don’t want to have to chase her through town. It’s been a long day and I’m not up to another run.”

Were they always like this? Tara didn’t want to laugh; it didn’t seem appropriate. “Faith’s hasn’t g-gone anywhere,” she assured Buffy in case the other girl _had_ been serious. “I c-can f-feel her.” Quirking a smile, Tara risked a tiny joke as she climbed off the couch. “Mag-magic is b-better th-than a leash. L-less visible in p-public.”

Buffy’s eyes threatened to come out of her head as the rest of the room chuckled.

Grinning, Tara trotted for the door – and then stopped. She’d almost forgotten… “Willow, d-do you have any m-magical supplies here?” If not, they would have to stop at the local magic shop on the way to campus. The sunlight might not work, and all the other spells Tara knew would be impossible without the right equipment.

“Oh. Sure!” Willow strode to a coat closet near the front door and pulled out a backpack. “Here. See if I’m missing anything. I’ve got more stuff in the bedroom. Faith won’t let me carry everything at once. She thinks it’s too heavy.” Holding the bag out, she grimaced. “I think the real reason is she doesn’t trust me to do the spells right.”

Tara very carefully kept her face expressionless as she unzipped the bag and peered inside. Now was not the time to bring up Faith’s concern about Willow’s magic use. “Dear Goddess.” Willow had more powders, potions, and crystals in her supply kit than Tara’s mother had had in her altar room.

“What? Am I missing something important?” Willow scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. “I _told_ Faith I didn’t have the right stuff.”

“No. No, this if f-fine.” Tara zipped the bag closed and looped the strap over her shoulder. “We h-have ev-everything we need.” And several things that Tara hadn’t recognized. Praying that the mystery supplies weren’t dangerous, she smiled at Willow. “Wh-when we get back, I’ll h-help you res-stock. Maybe Faith w-won’t be so b-bad about the bag if it’s not s-so heavy.”

“Cool.” Willow might have said more if Buffy hadn’t raised her left wrist and peered at an imaginary watch. “Oh, all right. Sorry, Buffy. You know how I get with the magic talk.” She turned back to the closet and grabbed a jacket. “I’m ready now.”

“It’s about fucking time, Red,” Faith’s impatient voice called through the door. “I was gonna see how out of shape Cave Buffy was if you didn’t get your ass in gear soon.”

Willow ran past Tara and wrenched open the door.  “You wouldn’t…

“Nah.” Tara giggled when Faith grinned. “Come on, Red. As fun as it would be to play hide and seek with B, you know I’m all about the Slaying. We got work to do. I can play with Cave Slayer anytime.”

***

The Cave Slayer references were getting old already. Stifling a growl, Buffy put a hand on Tara’s back and gently steered her out of the apartment. They needed to get the show on the road – before she and Faith crossed the line between teasing and real arguments. “Tomorrow morning, Faith,” she still had to say. “We’ll hit the training room, and I’ll show you some of the things this _Cave_ Slayer can do.” Faith’s dimples disappeared, and Buffy smiled sunnily. It was gratifying to know that her mild threat had made its point.

“W-Willow, where are we go-going?” Tara’s soft question brought Buffy up short.

Damn it. She was doing it again. Losing track of the job. Buffy pulled her attention away from Faith and focused on Willow. “Yeah, Will. Did you find those maintenance reports?”

“Sorry, Buff. I got nothing. _Someone_ …” Willow looked pointedly at Faith. “…distracted me before I could access the records. From what I remember, though, the largest and most used tunnels were next to the Social Sciences building. Why don’t we start there?”

It was as good a plan as any. If they went back inside to do more research, who knew how long it would take before they made it to campus? “One more trip to our home away from home. Maybe we should swing by and say hello to Professor Walsh. Bet she’d love that. Her favorite student – and me – hanging out in her office.”

Willow poked her in the arm. “She’d like you a lot more if you didn’t fall asleep in her class all the time.”

“I _never_ …” Buffy started to protest. Then she stopped and grimaced. “It was only the one time, Will, and I’d been out patrolling all night. If Walsh wasn’t such a pain about attendance, I would have stayed in the dorm and done my sleeping in comfort.”  She fell silent as they all climbed into the Jeep and Willow pulled out of the parking lot.

The silence didn’t last long, though. The lights of the downtown shopping strip whipped by, and Faith asked, “How’re we gonna do this, B? You want to rip whatever’s blocking the tunnel out of the way and go in plannin’ for a fight?”

It was their usual way of doing things when Willow wasn’t around. However, Buffy caught Willow’s eye roll in the rearview mirror. She didn’t think it would fly right now. “Let’s check out the place first, Faith.”

The eyes in the mirror widened and then narrowed.

Rushing on, Buffy spoke to Faith – while actually trying to convince Willow of her sincerity. “I don’t really want to get caught in another spell today. One’s enough.” More than enough. “That part of campus doesn’t get a lot of traffic at night. We should be able to hide out and watch the tunnel entrance for a while.”

“I c-can check to see if th-there’s been an magical act-tivity, too.” Tara turned in the seat and looked directly at Buffy. “The v-vampires are only one of the pro-problems, remember?”

Great. Now Tara and Willow were on the same side. Slaying had been easier when it was all about the demons and vampires. Buffy felt almost nostalgic about the Master. At least he’d been up front about simply wanting to kill her. “Right. Sorry, I keep forgetting that. Is there anything else we need to be on the lookout for? What if you _do_ find something? What do we do then?”

Tara seemed uncomfortable with the question.

“Tara?” Buffy reached across the space between them and gently touched her hand. “You don’t have to get out of the Jeep if you don’t feel up to it,” Buffy assured her, in case that’s what had Tara spooked. “Faith and I are used to going in blind. I’m sure we can handle whatever’s there.”

“The way you handled the thing in the bar?” Buffy wasn’t watching Willow, but she could hear the new eye roll in her question. “Buffy, you and Faith can’t handle everything. I know you think you can. But you can’t.”

“She’s right,” Tara agreed softly. Her lips twitched into a half-smile. “M-magic isn’t something you can b-beat up.” Dropping her eyes, she seemed to stare at their intertwined hands. “Wil-willow and I can ch-check out the area. If we f-find something, we c-can dec-cide what to do then.”

Despite Buffy’s habit of making fun of Giles and his need for plans, she understood his point. She wasn’t comfortable with the vague nature of their current strategy, either. “Um…” It was hard to find a way to agree without losing face.

Tara’s hand turned under Buffy’s until their palms pressed together and their fingers linked. “It w-won’t take long, I pr-promise.

“OK.” Buffy stifled a tired sigh and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “Will, park over by the Hague. We’ll go across the Meadow to the Social Sciences building. There’s enough cover for us to hide in – and a good view.” Buffy tried to keep her internal map of the campus in mind as she continued to plan their movements. “We’ll be close to some of the dorms if we need to have an excuse for being there.”

Willow didn’t reply. However, the Jeep left Empire Grade and headed down Heller. They were closing in now. The tension in the Jeep’s interior rose, and Buffy automatically catalogued the familiar dorms and academic halls as they drove by.

Minutes later, Willow parked in the mostly empty lot near the Hague. “We’re here,” she said unnecessarily.

“Then let’s get the show on the road.” Faith was the first one out of the Jeep. She moved a few feet away as everyone else climbed out. “My head’s gonna blow, B. You feel it?”

“Yeah.” Buffy automatically pulled a stake from her pocket as she scanned the area. “It’s worse than downtown. Way worse.” She’d never felt anything even close. “What the hell is going on in those tunnels?” There was no doubt in her mind now that the vampires were there. Not with her Slayer senses screaming like this.

“That’s what we’re here to find out.” There was a warning note in Willow’s voice. “Follow the plan.” The warning sharpened as she glared at Buffy and Faith. “We cross the Meadow and Tara and I do the magic first. Got it?”

Buffy shared a long (and disgruntled) look with Faith. “Got it,” they said in unison.

Their ready agreement got a snort and a headshake. “Let’s go.” Willow pointed across the parking lot at the darkened Meadow. “The bad guys are that way.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Buffy tossed off a mocking salute and trotted away from the Jeep. Each step caused a spike in her senses. They were definitely getting closer to the source of the vampire signature. She was barely aware of the rest of the gang trailing along behind her. Shadowed picnic tables and benches dotted the large, open Meadow. Buffy skirted those. They needed cover, and that meant sticking to the far edge of the area where bushes and trees provided some hope of hiding their presence.

They were halfway to their destination when movement ahead caught her attention. Raising one hand, Buffy signaled a halt. “Stay here,” she whispered urgently to Willow and Tara. “Faith…”

“Right behind you, B.” As if she was Buffy’s shadow, Faith followed closely as they carefully worked their way closer to the spot where Buffy had glimpsed the movement. “Can’t tell if it’s vamp or human. Too much noise in my senses. You?”

“The same.” Buffy ducked behind a large oak tree and peered around the trunk. In the dim illumination provided by a single lamppost, Buffy strained to see what had caught her attention. Indistinct shapes made their way through the bushes ahead. “There. I count five…no, six.”

Faith pressed closer. “I see ‘em. Early Halloween party? It looks like they got on uniforms.”

Buffy might have thought they were costumes, too, if a sudden glint of metal hadn’t changed her mind. “Not a party, Faith. I think the uniforms are real. Those guys are carrying guns!”


	27. Chapter 27

Buffy backed up a step, bumping into Faith.

Guns! The guns changed everything. Not even Tara and Willow, with all the magic they could muster, could go up against guns. “We need to tell the girls,” she whispered so only Faith could hear.

“What about _them_ guys? We need to know where they’re goin’, B.” Faith was tense against Buffy’s back.

She was right. Buffy weighed their options. “Tell Will what’s going on. I’ll follow Uniform Guys and meet you by the tunnel entrance.” Risking a glance behind her, Buffy stressed one last point. “Don’t go into the tunnel until I get back. With all the vamps down there, it will take both of us to handle them.”

Faith nodded tightly – but didn’t move.

Buffy could see her scowl. This wasn’t going to be easy. Bracing for a fight, she added, “Go. Now. Or I tell Will about your wild night at Willy’s…”

“You wouldn’t!” Faith hissed. Buffy saw her eyes widen and then narrow.

“Bet Will would _love_ the fact you were all cuddled up to a bottle of Jack, huh?” At another time, Buffy would have enjoyed Faith’s nearly fearful expression. Right now, though, she had other, more important, things to worry about. The group of uniform-clad men had slipped around the side of the Social Sciences building. If she didn’t leave now, she might lose them.

Luckily, her threat seemed to help Faith make up her mind. “Got it, B.” She turned away and sprinted back the way they’d come.

Thanking the PtB that her blackmail had worked, Buffy got back to business. She yanked a dagger from her belt and took off in the opposite direction. She couldn’t see the men any longer. Putting on a burst of speed, Buffy reached the sidewalk that ran alongside the building in seconds and hugged the brick facade. There were very few bushes to use as cover now. She had to be careful. Straining her senses, Buffy caught a faint sound of metal scraping against metal.

She risked a quick look around the corner of the building.

“Shit!” The word hissed out as Buffy watched the group of men opening a heavy grate covering what had to be the maintenance tunnel. Keeping her back to the wall, she crept around the corner. With all the vampire and demon activity in the area, Buffy’s Slayer senses were distorted; however, she was fairly sure the six shapes loosely circling the tunnel were human.

A sudden crackle broke the otherwise still night.

Buffy froze, praying the shadows were enough to mask her location.

One of the men raised a hand, and the rest of the group stared at him. “Finn,” he said softly into a radio mic that Buffy realized had been clipped to his uniform.

“…spotted near the Hague…find…bring them in.” The voice on the other end of the radio was broken up and too faint for Buffy’s enhanced hearing to pick up completely. She strained and inched closer, trying to make out the rest of the garbled words. “The professor…move forward…314.”

Buffy bit her lip. The Hague. Something – or some _one_ – had been spotted near the Hague. Even without more information, she had a sinking suspicion the disembodied voice meant her and the rest of the gang.

Those fears were confirmed when the group replaced the grate and turned toward her position.

Did they see her? Not wanting to tip them off, Buffy remained where she was. Waiting was hard, though. Buffy ground her teeth. The men didn’t appear to be aware of her presence yet, and Buffy wanted every advantage when the fighting started. Despite being human, each of the uniformed men carried a gun – and Buffy wasn’t sure that Slayer skills trumped bullets.

“Fan out, men,” Finn, the one in the lead, snapped. “Standard search pattern. Stay alert.” He pulled something from a pocket and slowly swept it in front of his body. “Nothing on the scanner. The professor may have been wrong.”

That was the second time Buffy had heard about “the professor.” The name of the man with the radio… Finn and the professor. It couldn’t be…

Before she could follow that thought further, her musings were cut short. The men were getting closer. It was show time. Leaping away from the building, Buffy landed right in front of the lead man. “Hi,” she announced in a bright, cheerful voice. “I’m a little lost. Can you point me in the direction of the super-secret underground tunnels?”

The group froze – just as Buffy had hoped.

Spinning on the ball of her left foot, Buffy used the momentum to swing her right leg in a tight arc. With a satisfying thud, her right instep slammed into Finn’s temple.

He went down with a clatter as his equipment and weapon landed on the sidewalk.

“Who’s next?” Buffy asked; although, she had her next target already picked out. Right on cue, the man who had been to Finn’s right charged her.

The attack might have been more effective if he’d used his gun. He must have thought size and muscle mattered more, however. The punch he threw sailed harmlessly over Buffy’s head as she ducked, and he grunted in pain when she landed a solid counterpunch to his stomach. Another quick jab to his jaw left him unconscious on the ground – right next to his friend.

Two down. Four to go.

Buffy jumped into the air and somersaulted over the remaining men. This was too easy.

***

The night swallowed Faith and Buffy. “So much for them not charging off to battle,” Willow muttered angrily. “Maybe the leash isn’t such a bad idea.”

Tara edged closer to the other girl and peered through the Meadow. “I’m s-sure they’ll be fi-fine. They wo-wouldn’t have run off like that if it h-hadn’t been important.” She hoped.  “We’ll just st-stay here, like Buffy wanted.”

“Tara, we are so _not_ staying here. Did you miss that whole conversation at the apartment? The Chosen Two have this thing about going in with no plan. We _had_ a plan. This is not the plan!” Even in the dimly lit Meadow, Tara glimpsed Willow’s clenched jaw.

Although Willow had a point, Tara wasn’t ready to run blindly after Buffy and Faith. Before they had taken off, she thought she’d seen Buffy point at something. “M-maybe they saw som-something,” she tried to explain. “I don’t th-think Buffy would just r-run off with-thout a reason.”

“You haven’t been a Scooby long enough. Give it a few weeks then you’ll see.” Willow crossed her arms and glared at the area where Buffy and Faith had disappeared. “She only pretends to be different than Faith.”

Rustling branches warned of someone approaching. “Willow…” Tara started. She never had a chance to finish as Faith burst out of the bushes and skidded to a halt in front of them.

“We got trouble,” she panted. “B’s checking it out, and she wants you two at the tunnels, like, yesterday.” Faith gripped Willow’s hand and nearly dragged her across the Meadow.

“T-trouble?” What kind of trouble? Tara jogged after Faith and Willow, barely holding back her questions. Why was Buffy investigating alone? “F-Faith, B-Buffy c-can’t fight m-magic…” Talking was harder than usual, thanks to her struggle to keep up. As she ran (and gasped for air) Tara realized Willow might have been right earlier. The two Slayers _did_ seem to share a need to do things without backup.

Faith didn’t answer her question. Instead, she led them in a zigzag path through the bushes and flowerbeds until they were near the Social Sciences building. “Listen up.” For once, Faith was all business. “I’m going in first.”

Perhaps sensing Willow about to protest, Faith’s hand snapped up in a very clear “stop” gesture.

“I’m going in first,” she repeated. “The guys she was followin’ were human – and not the spell throwin’ kind. If B ain’t beat us to the tunnel, and I don’t see anything waiting to munch on us, then you two can do your thing.” Steel suddenly gleamed in the faint light from a nearby lamppost when Faith pulled a dagger from her belt. “Stay put until I check things out.” Faith looked straight at Willow as she talked.

When Willow nodded reluctantly, Faith crept toward the building in a crouch and disappeared into the shadows in seconds.

“Come on.” Willow imitated Faith’s crouch and began making her way out of the protection of the shrubbery.

Tara reached for her – and missed. That left only one choice. Tara trotted out of the bushes, too. If they managed to survive their fact-finding mission, Tara silently promised herself that she would lead a discussion on the meaning of planning and following directions. She trailed Willow slowly. Every sound – from the wind whispering through the leaves to the muted song of the crickets – had her jumping. Her heart hammered. Her legs trembled.

When Willow stopped suddenly at the side of the Social Sciences building, Tara was so focused on overcoming her own fears that she slammed into the other girl. “S-s-sorry.” Goddess, if she kept this up, it wouldn’t take a vampire to kill her. Terror would do it. Tara sucked in a slow, deep breath and clenched her teeth. She had to get control. Now. Otherwise, _none_ of her magic would be of any use – not even with Willow’s help. Centering through sheer force of will and profligate use of a meditation mantra, Tara slowed her heart rate.

She was just in time. Willow ducked around the corner of the building, still in pursuit of Faith.

Tara’s new-found calm wavered for a second. No. She would _not_ backslide. The wizard from the bar might be here. And, as she’d tried to remind Faith, Slayers couldn’t fight magic. Only she and Willow could do that. Repeating that over and over in her head, Tara snuck after Willow again – and stopped three steps later.

Buffy and Faith fought four large, uniformed men cutting off their access to the maintenance tunnel. Tara caught a glimpse of the grate covering the tunnel entrance and Willow standing motionless only a few feet away; however, most of her attention was on the fighting.

She’d never seen anything like it.

It was fast and brutal. Soft grunts and the thud of feet and hands meeting flesh overrode the normal nighttime sounds. As if they had rehearsed, though, Buffy and Faith moved together. Synchronized. Beautiful. And deadly.

Tara moved closer, awed.

One of the men lashed out with his foot, and Buffy blocked it with an upraised arm. Before her attacker could retract his leg, Buffy’s hand closed around his ankle. One quick pull put him right where she obviously wanted.

Buffy’s foot rose and landed with unerring accuracy in the man’s groin.

Even from where she stood, Tara heard his choked cry. The man went down in an ungainly heap – and stayed there.

Only two more men remained. While Tara had watched Buffy, Faith had dispatched her own man.

“This ain’t no fun, B.” Faith’s voice carried clearly as she stalked toward the men as they huddled together. “Even newbies put up a better fight.”

***

Buffy shrugged. “They’re dumber than vamps, too.” She didn’t explain how, though. She wasn’t really interested in her usual quips at the moment. Instead, Buffy leaped forward and grabbed each man by the side of the head. Well, maybe one quip. “Night, night, boys.”

She slammed their heads together and watched in satisfaction as they slumped to the ground.

“Fuck! What did ya’ do that for? One of ‘em was mine,” Faith whined.

“Get a grip, Faith. You can feel the vamps in the tunnel. I think you’ll get enough action with them.” Buffy turned away and hunted for the first man she’d fought. She needed to check on something far more important than arguing with Faith.

It took a minute. The uniforms – helped by the bad lighting – made him hard to find.

Finally, though, Buffy found him. She gripped him by the shoulders and dragged him down the sidewalk to the only light. It revealed what she’d expected. “Damn it.” Raising her voice, Buffy called out to Willow. “I told you Professor Walsh was evil. Her TA just tried to kill me.”


	28. Chapter 28

“Riley? Really?” Willow jogged over and peered at the body Buffy held under the light. “Wow. I can’t…I mean, why? And what’s with the uniforms and guns? Laser tag?”

For a smart girl, Willow didn’t always get the point. Buffy sighed dramatically and let go of Riley’s shoulder. “Newsflash, Will. That’s not a laser gun.” Although, now that she’d mentioned it, his weapon didn’t look like the guns Buffy had seen on television, either. Pulling it carefully from Riley’s holster, she held it up. “At least, I don’t think it is.” The smooth, molded metal reminded her of the phasers on Star Trek.

“Who cares?” Faith asked. “We got vamps waitin’ to be killed, B. Stop admiring the gun and let’s hit that tunnel. If we hurry, we can buzz the Denny’s for breakfast on the way home.” Her smirk was clear as she continued. “Got a feeling the Hs’ll be revved up after the fight.”

Buffy scowled. “We aren’t here to kill whatever’s in the tunnels, remember? We’re here to get information. That’s all.” Breaking off before things got out of control, Buffy pointed to the tunnel. “Besides, I don’t think the only thing waiting for us is demonic. I overheard Riley on his radio. Whatever’s down there has some way of watching the campus. They knew we were here; that’s what the Commando Band was doing. Looking for us.”

“Should we go back to the apartment?” Willow moved closer to Faith. “I can run background checks on Riley. See if I can figure out what he’s really doing here and who he works for.” Her eyes flickered up to Faith and then latched onto Buffy’s. “If there are more like him…”

Willow didn’t need to finish for Buffy to understand. Fighting humans was on the “never do again” list. Not after Faith’s accident last year.“We may not have a choice, Will,” Buffy warned gently. “They’re here; they’re looking for us; and they seem to be hooked up with a bunch of vampires.” Relenting slightly, she conceded. “I promise we’ll be careful, though. We’ll sneak in and take a look and sneak right back out.”

“OK.” Not seeming convinced by Buffy’s vow, Willow nevertheless nodded. “Tara and I will stay here. Don’t be gone long.”

***

The second Willow gave her approval, Buffy and Faith took off. Tara watched them run for the tunnel entrance. “Are w-we really go-going to stay here?” After the last time, she didn’t trust Willow not to follow the Slayers.

“We stay,” Willow repeated. “And we start looking for that wizard. Vampires are scary, but Buffy and Faith handle those all the time. Big magical threats are new and not of the good. Can we set up over there?” She pointed to a spot a few feet away from the sidewalk with a stone bench, surrounded by manicured flower beds.

It was as good a place as any. Tara stepped off the sidewalk in answer. “Do you r-remember the way the mag-magic felt at the bar?” She’d never worked closely with Willow; their activities that afternoon hadn’t been an actual spell casting.

“Um… I think so. Why?” Willow slipped her backpack off her shoulder and unzipped it.

Tara put out a hand. “Don’t, W-Willow. We don’t n-need th-that.” At least, she hoped they didn’t. Digging into the supplies meant they were going on the offensive and that was far riskier than doing a little careful hunting.

“OK.” It was apparent Willow wasn’t sure what Tara meant, but she willingly waited for more instruction.

“Remember h-how we linked at the b-bar?” Tara asked. When Willow nodded, she smiled with as much reassurance as possible. “We’re going to d-do that again and th-then push our energy out.”

Willow’s forehead wrinkled as she frowned in confusion.

Unclear how to describe the magic, Tara hesitated. “It’s…” It was what? She reached for Willow’s hand to give herself more time to think – and to get their link started. The physical contact pushed away some of Tara’s internal doubts. Willow was powerful; her energy radiated from Willow’s hand as if it was an electric blanket. Tara let her shields drop and embraced that heat.

When the flow and ebb of their combined magic settled into gentle swells, Tara said softly, “Imagine our energy is a net. As it moves through the air, it collects and…filters all of the ambient energy. We should be able to sense anything out of place.” Like the signature of the wizard. She concentrated on the pool of power welling between them and forced it into the right shape: a thin, shimmering sheet of interwoven magics. “We’re looking for the wizard, Willow. That’s all.” For now. Tara didn’t say the final two words out loud; she didn’t need to. Joined by magic, Willow would hear her thoughts.

“Got it.” Willow’s enthusiasm was dimmed only by her intense focus on their activities. As Tara shaped and expanded their energy, Willow provided the first push, sending the ‘net’ gently through the darkness in the direction of the maintenance

The effect was dizzying. Tara finally closed her physical eyes in an effort to ignore the doubled vision created by seeing the pulsing filter of power superimposed over the view of the dimly lit campus. It helped to hold her growing nausea at bay and narrowed her focus to only her shared link with Willow.

Once she was sure everything was under control, Tara let Willow in on the rest of her plan. “Once we find the trail of power, we’ll be able to follow it to the source. But we have to be careful,” she stressed. “Even though normal people won’t be able to see our probe, the wizard… Anyone who uses magic _will_.”

Thanks to her closed eyes, Tara couldn’t see Willow’s expression. Still, it was easy enough to guess her reaction from the firm, confident reply. “Don’t worry, Tara. I’m sure we can handle whatever we find.”

Tara’s concentration wavered for a second in disbelief. Had Willow missed what she’d said about their encounter with the wizard at the bar? He was strong. Far stronger than Tara estimated she and Willow were.

“Besides…” Willow continued, unaware of Tara’s concerns. “We have Buffy and Faith with us. They might not be able to cast spells, but they won’t let anyone hurt us. Not even crazy Ethan Rayne.”

Marveling for only a second at Willow’s supreme confidence in Buffy and Faith, Tara forced herself back to business. They had a job to do. She watched their magical net intently. At first, she sensed nothing more than normal levels of natural energies.

“Stop!” Tara closed her hands around the ‘handle’ of their magical net. Her eyes shot open. Bright sparks lit the air in front of their meshed magic. “Do you feel that?” Even as she asked the question, Tara knew Willow couldn’t miss something that powerful.  

The advance of the net stopped immediately, and Willow’s unease poured through the link.  “What _is_ that?”

Tara took a minute to blink away the dazzle from the sheer strength of the magic they’d caught. When she did…A shudder worked its way down Tara’s spine.  It was the signature from the bar, tainting the ambient magical energies surrounding them and dissolving the fibers of their net with its malevolence.

“I guess we found him, huh?” Willow mumbled. Her earlier confidence had disappeared from her voice. “He’s…I mean, wow.”

Struggling with her own terrified awe, Tara nodded numbly. What she’d felt outside the bar hadn’t prepared her for this. They couldn’t beat this.

Willow must have shared Tara’s opinion. “We have to warn Buffy and Faith, Tara! Vamps and demon, they can handle. This?” Willow moved away and their link disintegrated with a soundless (and painful) pop. “Giles had better have some answers this time. This is way worse than some funky Halloween costumes.”

Before responding to Willow’s comment, Tara reestablished her shields and shook her head against the dull pounding at her temples. Magical Lesson Number One: how to disconnect from a link without blindsiding your partner. “No. We aren’t going into the tunnel. We’re waiting this time.” She shot a pointed look at Willow. “Like we promised.” There was nothing Willow could say that would convince her to go into that tunnel. The energy trail emanated from the entrance, and Tara had no desire to confront the man behind the magic.

She received a mutinous glare in return. “But…”

“I have a better idea,” a deep, British-accented voice interrupted their increasingly heated discussion.  A man materialized to Willow’s right.

“You!” Willow spun and pointed a slim figure at the man. “I _knew_ it was you. The Cave Students are right up your alley! I’m surprised you didn’t give them all fake fur costumes, too.”

If he was insulted by Willow’s reaction, the man (Ethan Rayne, Tara wondered?) didn’t show it. In fact, he smiled. “Let’s see what else you know, shall we, Ms. Rosenberg? My friends…” The man snapped his fingers and red light flared for a second. When it dimmed, a group of armed and uniformed soldiers surrounded Willow and Tara. “…have a few questions for you.”

***

Buffy held up a hand. “Do you hear that?” she asked Faith in a whisper.

She saw Faith’s eyes narrow and her head tilt. “The high-pitched wailin’? Yeah. Why?”

That was a good question. Buffy couldn’t identify the sound, yet it filled her with a strong desire to turn and sprint out of the tunnel. Avoiding an answer, she dropped her hand and continued their journey through the dark passageway. “Stay close.” For once, Buffy was glad to have Faith along. The Chosen Two were a force even the most powerful demons feared, and something told her they might need all the ass-kicking potential they could muster.

“Where the hell else would I be, B?” Faith’s rough whisper sounded mocking. “Red’d do more than make me sleep on the couch if I left your ass in here alone. Girl’s got a thing about keeping you safe.”

“She’d get over her frog fear, if I let anything happen to you,” Buffy pointed out in return. “I’d be making friends with Kermit…” A faint light ahead lit the otherwise dark tunnel, and Buffy stopped talking as they moved closer. Beneath the continued wailing, she made out the hum of voices and the faint roar of what sounded like an air conditioner.

Sudden warmth bloomed along Buffy’s back as Faith pressed against her. Buffy glanced over her shoulder and glimpsed her intent expression. “Got a bad feeling about this, B,” Faith breathed so softly that Buffy barely made out the words.

“Me, too.” Turning her attention back to the tunnel ahead, Buffy gripped the handle of the knife in her right hand. Nearly quivering with the strain of keeping her senses on high, she led them deeper into the maintenance tunnel.

Cool air wafted over them after only a few steps and the light ahead brightened.

Buffy dropped into a tight crouch as the end of the passageway came into view. Hugging the concrete wall, Buffy continued to creep forward until she stood at the very edge of the tunnel. A vast chamber spread out in front of them, illuminated by dozens of fluorescent lights. People in white coats and gun-toting, camouflage-wearing soldiers milled around the large space. “This is way worse than bad, Faith” she said numbly.

“What the fuck _is_ this place?” Faith’s voice was harsh – and scared. Buffy recognized it only because she was afraid, too. “And how did we miss it before now?”

Very good questions. Ones which Buffy had no intention of answering at that moment. She stepped back, propelling Faith with her. “We need Giles.” This was out of their league. Even without knowing exactly what they’d just witnessed, Buffy was in no doubt they needed Giles’ expertise and research abilities.

“We ain’t got any info, B.” Faith resisted Buffy’s next attempt to move them toward the tunnel entrance. “He won’t be able to find anything if we don’t give him somethin’ to work with.” Gripping Buffy’s arm, she dragged them forward again. “You stay here. Play lookout. I’ll see if I can find anything down there.”

“No!” Buffy planted both feet firmly and managed to get her arm free. “If you get caught…”

Faith snorted. “Look at ‘em, B. Humans.”

“With guns!” It was like arguing with a wall, Buffy thought, noticing Faith’s mutinous expression. “We took out that group at the tunnel because they were too stupid to use their guns. Once the bullets start flying, not even Slayer speed would keep you alive.”

For an interminable minute, Faith glared at Buffy without saying anything. Then, reluctantly, she mumbled, “Whatever, B. Never thought you’d back away from a fight.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You saw the same thing I did, Faith,” she said as she turned toward the tunnel entrance. “Do you really think all those soldiers will be gone when we come back with answers?” And reinforcements.

“Come back?” A new voice asked, and Buffy dropped automatically into a defensive crouch.

She needn’t have bothered.

Blocking her and Faith’s escape was Ethan Rayne and a group of soldiers. “I’m afraid you can’t leave just yet,” he informed her; although, Buffy wasn’t really paying attention to his posturing.

All of her attention was on Willow and Tara, huddled together under the watchful eyes of a pair of Ethan’s men.


	29. Chapter 29

“I guess we could stay for a while,” Buffy mumbled. “Maybe long enough for a movie and some popcorn. That sounds good, doesn’t it, Faith?” As she talked, Buffy shifted slowly to her left. It put her closer to Ethan. She had a knife, and Ethan’s bully boys didn’t appear to see her and Faith as a serious threat. In fact, their weapons were pointed at the ground.

Ethan, though, wasn’t underestimating the danger they posed. “Do be still, Ms. Summers. It would be tragic if something were to happen to the young ladies in my charge.” His hand waved toward Willow and Tara. “Why don’t you save the heroics and join us? My employer has been waiting rather impatiently to meet you.”

His employer. Buffy glanced at Faith and saw her scowl. They’d been right about that, damn it. Ethan wasn’t working alone. “I wouldn’t want you to get fired,” she said stiffly. “As long as the meeting won’t make us late for the movie. I hate missing all those trailers.”

“Thank you.” Ethan ignored Buffy’s attempt at levity. He snapped his fingers and two of the soldiers broke away from the group. _Now_ their guns were at the ready. “These gentlemen will show you the way.”

For a second, Buffy thought Ethan had made a mistake. If the two men moved in front of her and Faith, that evened up the numbers a little. Unfortunately, she found herself spun toward the tunnel’s end with the surprisingly sharp barrel of a machine gun pressed into her back. Trapped, angry, and totally terrified, Buffy moved forward after a single shove.

The trip took forever.

The large open area she and Faith had discovered was massive. From their vantage point, they hadn’t been able to see everything. Sheets of some sort of metallic fabric hung from beams near the tunnel’s ceiling, creating tiny ‘rooms’ within the larger space. Plodding along at the head of the group, Buffy tried to get a glimpse of what those rooms held.

“You see what I see, B?” Faith’s whisper was so soft that only another Slayer would hear. At least, Buffy prayed that was true.

Keeping her back to her captors and her head down, Buffy carefully replied, “Demons and vamps. Lots of them.” And all of them had been strapped to tables and hooked up to equipment she didn’t recognize.

Faith’s head dipped slightly. “Don’t think they’re part of the team.”

Buffy agreed; although, she refrained from comment. What the hell was going on down here? If Ethan’s crew wasn’t building a demon army, why bring them all into the tunnels? Buffy’s mind struggled to put the pieces together.

She hadn’t managed to even find the edge pieces by the time the gun in her back urged her up a set of metal stairs and through a guarded doorway at the far side of the facility. The bright lights were still there. The noise, though, was absent. So were the people. The gleaming hall was empty ahead of them. Buffy slowed her steps as much as she dared and sent her senses out. There was something here. Something powerful and different than the run of the mill demons they’d passed.

“Keep moving!” A sharp jab in her back sent Buffy stumbling forward. So much for getting a chance to explore.

Making sure her muscles stayed relaxed, Buffy sped up slightly. Only slightly. If they were going to try to escape, this was the best chance they had. “Be ready,” she whispered to Faith. Then, taking her own advice, Buffy glanced over her shoulder. The soldier behind her held his weapon low, near his right hip. A knife nestled in a sheath on the same thigh.

Neutralize the gun. Get the knife. Take care of the other soldiers.

“On three,” Buffy told Faith.

“One,” Faith said immediately. Buffy recognized the carefully restrained anger in the quiet voice. The guys with the guns would never know what hit them.

Buffy took a deep breath. “Two.” They had to hurry. Her enhanced hearing had picked up movement nearby. In one of the rooms ahead or back in the main base, though, she couldn’t be sure. She silently cursed. Beating the crowd already in the hall was going to be tough enough. It would be next to impossible if there were reinforcements waiting in the wings.

“Three!” Faith spun as she called out the count, her right hand swinging back to thrust the gun barrel away from her body.

Buffy mimicked the move. As the gun barrel swung toward the left wall, she thrust her left hand at the soldier’s face. With her fingers bent into a claw, she jabbed the fingertips directly into the man’s face – and then raked down.

He screamed and his hands dropped from the machine gun to cradle his bleeding cheeks.

Perfect. Buffy dove forward and ripped the knife from the soldier’s leg sheath. She hit the floor in a tight tuck and rolled into Ethan’s legs. He went down from the momentum of her strike. Buffy took advantage of that. As she regained her feet, Buffy lashed out with her right hand. The fist struck Ethan in the temple, and he slumped.

***

Tara concentrated on _not_ panicking as they left the main ‘hanger’ of the underground base. What were they going to do? Buffy and Faith were Slayers. They fought demons and vampires. Guns and soldiers were outside their training.

They were outside hers as well. She searched her mental storehouse of spells. Sunlight was out. There was nothing to levitate…unless she tried to float the guns away. Her brief happiness over that thought faded when she noticed the way each of the machine guns had a strap firmly encircling the soldiers’  shoulders. Damn it. For an instant, Tara wanted to stomp her foot in frustration.

Her inner temper tantrum was interrupted when Faith shouted, “Three!”

The next few minutes were a confused blur of shouts and movement. When Tara finally realized that Buffy and Faith were trying to free them, though, she wasted no time in helping as best she could. Ignoring all the niceties of shared magic, Tara grabbed Willow through the link they’d established earlier. She had to pound on Willow’s shield for a heartbeat until it dropped; however, once they were joined, Tara pooled their magical resources.

They had to keep the guns out of play. If levitation was out… Tara extended a tendril of magic and used it to plug the barrel of the nearest weapon. She caught Willow’s amusement at the action, and then followed Willow’s lead in repeating the action with the rest of the firearms. Now Buffy and Faith faced a fair fight.

Once the soldiers lost the advantage, though, the fight didn’t last much longer. Within minutes, unmoving uniformed bodies littered the hallway.

“Dumb fuckers shoulda shot us,” Faith groused as she glared at the soldiers. “Didn’t nobody tell ‘em they couldn’t outfight a couple of Slayers?”

Willow pulled out of the joined link. “Oh, they weren’t all that stupid. They just didn’t know that Slayers weren’t the only threat. Tara’s as good as you and Buffy, Faith, only with magic. Even if the guys had tried to shoot you, the guns wouldn’t have worked.”

It was clear from Faith’s scowl she didn’t believe Willow. At least she refrained from stating that. “Huh. Whatever the reason, we got lucky. It’s time to get the hell out of here and find Giles. Maybe he can figure out what all these guys are doing down here.”

Feeling flushed from the success of the spell and Willow’s ringing endorsement, Tara said, with no hint of her usual stutter, “Should we leave the bodies in the hallway?” She gestured toward the door they’d come through. “What if someone else decides to go this way?”

“I’m not sure it’s going to matter.” Buffy grimaced and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I thought I heard something from one of the rooms as we came through the door. We need a way to get out of here – with Ethan. He’s got to know what’s going on down here, and I’m sure Giles will want to…talk to him.”

“We can carry him, B.” Faith restlessly paced back and forth across the hallway. “Only thing is, I don’t know about makin’ it back to the tunnel without getting caught. We don’t look like soldiers.”

Tara watched as Buffy seemed to stiffen in indecision. Trying to help, she said softly, “Ma-maybe there is someth-thing in one of the rooms we could use?” Her mind latched on to the image of a demon strapped to a metal table. “A gurney? Could we p-put Ethan on that and wheel him out?”

“OK.” Buffy’s lips twitched in a tiny smile. “From now on, Tara does all the planning.” Then, in complete defiance of her previous statement, she turned to Faith. “Start rattling doorknobs. We need that gurney.”

Feeling better now that Buffy was more confident, Tara considered what else they might need. “Even if we c-cover Ethan, we’ll stick out, Buffy.” Four young women in a base filled with soldiers and doctors. They wouldn’t even make it halfway to the maintenance tunnel.

“It won’t win any fashion awards, but we could borrow uniforms.” Willow reached down and started unbuttoning the shirt of the body nearest her. “We’ll have to walk fast and pray nobody sees the two feet of extra material dangling over our hands and stuffed in our boots.” Her hands faltered, though, when a loud klaxon suddenly echoed through the hallway.

Tara stared at Willow, heart racing and stomach churning. This didn’t bode well. Intuition became certainty seconds later.

Buffy’s head whipped around and she frowned at the door leading to the base. “Company’s coming. I hear boots. Lots of them.” In the same breath, she called out, “Faith! Stop playing nice. Get the next door open. Now!” Pulling Willow to her feet, Buffy gestured for Tara to get moving.

It was an unnecessary effort. Tara was already sprinting to where Faith waited impatiently. “Didn’t have to do nothin’, B. This one was unlocked,” Tara heard as Faith nearly shoved her into a darkened exam room. “Too bad you left the guns with the Soldier Boys. It mighta evened the odds.”

“No guns,” Willow said between gasps as she slid to a stop next to Tara. “We’ll find another way.”  She pulled the backpack off her shoulder. “Tara, is there anything in here we can use?”

Only if they wanted to blow up the base – and themselves. Tara quickly shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Then she frowned. Faith and Buffy had closed and locked the door, and they were dragging pieces of equipment and tables in front of the door. That wouldn’t keep anyone out of the room for long. “Actually, Willow, there _is_ something we can do.” Snatching the backpack away from Willow, Tara ripped open the front pouch. She remembered a vial of Artemisia Vulgaris.

Voices and heavy footfalls from the hallway made it hard to focus on the tiny scripts on the bottles.

Finally, though, Tara found the right vial. “Move away from the door,” she ordered. Not giving herself time to second guess her decision, Tara waited long enough for Buffy and Faith to scramble away. Tara hurled the glass bottle at the door at the same time she called out, “Servo absentis!”

The vial shattered and light flared brightly as the liquid coated the metal door.

“What the fuck did you do, T?” Faith gripped Tara’s shoulder roughly. “Ain’t no one missing the light show. Did you _want_ whoever’s out there to find us?”

Tara was too rattled to answer. The spell had worked. Until she’d felt the ward spring up, Tara hadn’t been sure… When Faith’s fingers tightened more, though, she dragged her attention away from the shimmering curtain of power blanketing the door. “The mugwort in the vial repels th-things. I used it to k-keep the s-soldiers out.” Innate honesty made her add a disclaimer. “It w-won’t last long th-though.”

“Then let’s stop wasting time.” Buffy pried Faith’s fingers from Tara’s shoulder. “See if there’s a way out. Another door. Air ducts. I don’t care.” The orders flowed effortlessly as Buffy scanned the room. “Will, they’ve got computers. Do your thing. Shut down the whole base if you have to.”

Willow scampered around them and started poking at a darkened terminal, leaving Buffy and Tara alone in the center of the room to watch. And wait.


	30. Chapter 30

Tara fidgeted and saw Buffy wriggle where she stood. The room seemed to close in on her. They were trapped, after all. With no apparent way out.

“I got nothin’, B. Maybe _you_ could fit in the air ducts, but the rest of us is too big.” Slamming her hand against the wall, Faith glared at them. “I knew we shoulda left when we had the chance.”

Lips tightening, Buffy glared back. “Really? Was that before or after you wanted to run through the base getting information for Giles? Am I the only one that remembers that?” Then Tara saw Buffy’s head drop slightly and her hands clenched and unclenched. “Whatever,” Buffy said in a softer voice. “If the air ducts are out, we have to find another way.” Shifting away from the lab table, she trotted to the far wall. “I know I heard people moving around earlier. If you didn’t see anyone in any of the rooms, Faith, we’re missing something. Unless they have ghosts as well as demons down here, the door isn’t the only exit.”

Standing in the center of the room wasn’t helping so Tara joined Buffy and Faith and ran her trembling hands over the wall. It was cool and… “Is the wall moving?” she asked hesitantly. Or was it only her own nerves causing the feeling?

“Not moving, Blondie.” Faith stood still and leaned into the wall. “Vibrating.”

Whatever else she might have said was interrupted by loud banging at the door.

“Damn. It looks like their reinforcements are here.” Buffy turned away from their search. “Keep looking.”

Tara continued working on the wall but turned her head enough to watch Buffy’s progress across the room. She could clearly see the way Buffy’s hands played with the dagger tucked into her belt. This wasn’t going to be good. Well, actually, she reminded herself, the situation had gone past “not good” a long time ago.

“You got a clue what’s causing the wall thing, T?” Faith had stopped touching the wall. Arms crossed, she leaned one shoulder against it and glared at the door – or Buffy. Tara wasn’t sure which.

Did she look like an expert in drywall and construction? Tara bit back the comment, though. They were all scared and giving in to that wouldn’t find a way out of their predicament. “N-not really,” she admitted. “Can you t-tell where the vib-brations start?” It was a shot in the dark. Whatever caused the rumble under her hands didn’t seem mystical in nature.

Surprisingly, Faith had at least a partial answer. “No idea about the where, T. Slayer hearing says it’s some kind of machine, maybe. Got some kind of buzzing and…” She paused with a frown. “B was right about the voices. I got ‘em, too.”

That didn’t fit. “In the other room?” Hadn’t Faith checked on that while they were waiting in the hall?

“No. It was empty when I stuck my head in.” Faith’s eyes widened. “That don’t make… Fuck!” She spun back to the door. “B, we maybe got a new problem.”

***

Buffy heard Faith as something heavier than a knock sounded from the hallway. “Sorry. We aren’t taking any more problems right now. We’ve got enough to handle up here.” Like the booted foot apparently slamming against the door. “Why don’t you take a number or something?”

A large dent suddenly tented the door into the room.

“Or not.” Buffy picked up the only weapon other than her knife in the room: a tall, three-legged stool. God, they should have stayed home and let Willow make with the research. And thinking of Willow… “Will, any luck?” Please?

Head nodding, Willow answered, “I managed to break the password. Give me a minute to check things out.” Despite the threat of the group in the hallway, her voice rose with excitement. “This place is _amazing_ , Buffy. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Save it, Red.” Faith trotted up next to Buffy. “Forget about fighting our way out. The voices… I heard ‘em, too. Like I told Tara, they ain’t coming from next door. So unless they’re hanging out in the air ducts, we’re missing a door.”

“A secret passage?” Buffy glanced at Faith in disbelief. “Are you crazy?”

Dimples flashing, Faith grinned. “You been saying that since I hopped off the train, B.” She grew more serious as the metal in the door buckled further. “Looks like the best option. We got lucky the last time. I don’t think them soldier boys are gonna forget the guns if we go again.”

“Right. Good point.” Abandoning her stool, Buffy looked around the room. She hadn’t seen anything the first time she’d done that – and this time was no different.  “I don’t even know what to look for.” There were no candelabras on the wall. No bookshelf to move or books to use as levers.

A hinge snapped off the door. Tara’s wards were failing. They were running out of time.

“I’ve got it!” Buffy was so tense that she jumped at Willow’s triumphant shout. “Schematics, memos. All of it.”

For once, Faith seemed to share Buffy’s emotions. She, too, jerked and then scowled. “Save the celebrating until later, Red. If you got the goods, how the fuck do we get out of here?”

“There’s a door in that back wall.” Rapid-fire keystrokes exploded under Willow’s fingers and a printer on the table next to her began churning out paper.

The back wall? Buffy looked at Faith. They’d been over every inch and hadn’t found anything.

“It’s hard to tell how to open it, but…” Willow jumped off her stool and grabbed the paper off the printer. “I think you pull here.” Clutching the printouts in her left hand, she sprinted past Buffy and Faith and manipulated a thermostat.

Seconds later, a crack appeared faintly in a section of the wall. It continued to grow…and grow until Buffy stared through the opened “door” into darkness illuminated by a strip of pin lights along the floor.

Stay or go?

“What the hell are we waiting on, B?” Faith was already propelling Willow into the opening. “Them guys are getting in any minute. Sounds like they got heavy equipment helpin’ ‘em out.”

She was right. The dull thuds had graduated to sharp, metallic retorts, and there was a quarter-inch gap between the door and frame near the floor. “Tara, you and Willow in the middle, like before. Faith…” Buffy picked up the stool she’d planned to use as a weapon earlier. Her muscles protested along with the metal as she wrenched two of the legs off. “Take point.” She tossed one of the legs to Faith and took the rear position.

The door closed soundlessly behind her.

As it did, the lights brightened, revealing smooth rock walls and a long hallway. The voices were clearer. And closer.

Faith’s pace slowed, and Buffy nodded in approval. They’d managed to avoid the soldiers behind them…for now. Running headfirst into whoever (or whatever) was ahead would be stupid. Buffy’s enhanced hearing kicked in. The voices, the _conversation_ , in front of them grew clearer with each step.

“…this isn’t working as planned.” A man. Angry and belligerent. “We have to pull up stakes. If we stay, the risk of discovery gets too high.”

“I’m not leaving now.” Buffy sucked in a sharp breath. Professor Walsh. Willow so owed her. She’d said all along that Walsh was evil. None of her other professors took attendance and handed out so many assignments. “We’ll go back to the original plan.”

Buffy was listening so intently that she cannoned into Tara when the other girl stopped. Actually, everyone had stopped. She saw Faith raise a beckoning hand and slipped past Tara with a murmured apology for running into her.

“Think it’s only two?” Faith used the same piercing whisper Buffy had used in the corridor with the soldiers.

“Maybe.” Buffy didn’t want to be wrong. Creeping a few feet farther along the passage, she listened more intently. The conversation had halted for the moment. She heard metallic clicks, the whoosh of air (vents? pumps?), and the irritating squeak of wheels against floor. “I can’t tell.”

“Me, neither. What do ya’ want to do?” Faith’s eyes flickered toward Willow and Tara, and Buffy suddenly remembered how reluctant Faith was to have her girlfriend on the front lines.

Treading carefully, Buffy whispered back, “I’ll go in first.” And keep her fingers crossed they were right about the number of people ahead. “Give me a couple of minutes. If you don’t hear any screaming, I’m good and you can walk in.” She didn’t give Faith a chance to remind her that they’d had this conversation before. She was going alone. Faith would just have to face Willow’s wrath at not being there to protect her.

Less than a minute later, Buffy found the end of the corridor. A large opening appeared along the right wall. She headed there, barely breathing, and pressed her back into the cold stone. There was more sound now. No voices, though. Those had stopped and hadn’t restarted. Between the booming thunder of her heartbeat, Buffy tried to identify what she _was_ hearing.

Beeping. High-pitched and metallic, with long pauses and whooshing sounds in between. Tapping. That, at least, was familiar. Years of friendship with Willow said that was fingertips touching keys in rapid succession. And… Buffy closed her eyes and strained. Rough and arrhythmic scratching.

“What are we going to do for a power source?” The man’s voice was loud and so unexpected that Buffy jumped. “The uranium core in this one didn’t last a day before it blew the circuits.”

Buffy took an automatic step closer. She needed more. She needed to know what Walsh and Ethan had cooked up in their underground hideout.

Superiority oozed from Walsh’s voice when she answered. “I’ve been working on a few options.” She laughed, the sound chilling Buffy to the bone. “What would you say if I told you I had a source? A source who found the perfect host for the project?”

Host? Buffy took another step forward.

“You’ve said that before!” Walsh’s companion was getting agitated. His voice rose until it echoed off the walls. “And every time, nothing’s worked. Our supplies are running low, not to mention the funding. My superiors want results, Maggie, not more failures. We’re out of chances.”

Footsteps moved closer to Buffy’s location and she scuttled back a few feet. “We don’t need more chances. The new host is being delivered tonight. I’ve got a team bringing her in.”


	31. Chapter 31

The wording was too eerily similar to Riley’s radio conversation for Buffy to ignore. Walsh had someone (Ethan, no doubt) bringing in a host for whatever project was going on in the underground base.

Buffy didn’t need Willow’s brilliant mind to figure out what the last part was about.

She was the host. As he had with the band candy fiasco, Ethan had planned to create enough confusion in Sunnydale to bring Buffy and the Scoobies running. Right into his trap. Unfortunately, she thought with a wry smile, avoiding the trap hadn’t kept them from finding another way of falling into line with Ethan’s plan.

Her cautious approach now placed Buffy at the very edge of the opening. “I really hope knowing _is_ half the battle,” Buffy mumbled just before leaping around the corner – and into another lab. Her quick examination of the small, cramped room revealed a stainless steel table covered by a massive man. Tubes and wires ran from his body to a myriad of equipment stacked or hanging nearby.

“Buffy!” Professor Walsh spun, her pencil dropping to the floor with a clatter.

“Sorry I’m late. I didn’t see the date for this field trip on the syllabus.” Reaching behind her, Buffy slipped the dagger from her belt. Knife and chair leg at the ready, she slowly wandered forward.  “Should I have studied? Is this a pop quiz? Or an extra credit type deal?”

Walsh frowned. “You know? How…?”

For an internationally famous psychologist, Walsh wasn’t very smart. Buffy rolled her eyes. “Come on, Professor. I’m the Slayer.” If Ethan was part of the master plan, that wasn’t a secret. “The title comes with a few nifty bonuses. Good hearing, for example. And super strength.” Letting some of her fear and anger leak out, Buffy slammed the chair leg in her right hand down on an exposed edge of the exam table.

A thunderous boom exploded in the cavern, the echoes coming fast and furious for long seconds until they eventually faded away.

“Too bad Ethan didn’t give you the full scoop. You should be choosier about who you pick for your team,” Buffy announced. “He’s drops the ball a lot. Like now.” Raising her voice, Buffy called in the troops. “Faith, Will...”

Seconds later, Faith dashed in, her own weapon at the ready. Willow and Tara followed in less dramatic fashion.

“I think he forgot to mention there’s more than just me.” Buffy relaxed slightly as Faith took up a position at her shoulder. “Now, let’s talk about more important things. Why you’re here and who the big, creepy dead guy on the table is.” She didn’t ask about the silent man sitting in front of the computer near Professor Walsh. Not yet.

Apparently, the sight of the Scooby gang wasn’t enough to derail the professor. Walsh smirked. “If you have to ask…”

“We don’t,” Willow interrupted. She waved the sheaf of papers she’d printed in the other lab. “I didn’t have time to fill Buffy in on the details, but I know it _all_. This is some kind of experiment, and _that_ …” Willow pointed dramatically at the gruesome form on the exam table. “…That’s your monster, Dr. Frankenstein. Half human and half demon.”

Everyone stared at Willow in shock and disbelief.

The silence continued, growing more and more stifling. Willow broke first. “I’m assuming that’s Doctor Englemann. Or…should I call you Colonel?”

When Englemann stood, Buffy divided her attention between him and Walsh. Colonel. It was slowly beginning to make sense. He was the connection to Riley and the armed soldiers who’d captured them.  “Doctor, please. The other… Well, it’s a means to an end,” he responded. The aggression Buffy had heard in his voice from the hallway was gone. Now it was controlled. Hard.

It matched the look in Englemann’s eyes.

“This is your source, Maggie?” Never taking his eyes from Buffy’s, Englemann addressed Professor Walsh. “Not bad. Not bad, at all. I hadn’t even considered this option.”

A sudden chill crept up Buffy’s spine, and she fought a shiver. These people were crazy. And dangerous. Instinctively, Buffy backed a step closer to Faith. They had to get out of here, but… They couldn’t leave things the way they were. “Will,” Buffy announced in what she prayed was a confident tone, “shut them down. I’m done playing games.”

The whole plan hinged on Willow actually being _able_ to derail the professor’s evil plot.

“You got it, Buffy.” Looking fierce and determined, Willow stalked across the room toward Englemann and his computer. “Honey, can you clear me a path? I don’t have time to turn the Colonel into a toad.”

Buffy saw Faith’s mouth drop open at that comment, but she recovered instantly. Taking a menacing step forward and cracking her knuckles, Faith answered with a grim smile. “Make my day, soldier boy. Ain’t had near enough fun tonight, and I owe you for the kidnappin’.”

Englemann shuffled a few inches to the right.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Obviously, Faith didn’t think he’d put in enough effort. Buffy watched, ready to spring to Faith’s aid, as she lifted Englemann off the ground by the lapels of his lab coat.

With a bone-jarring thump and a pained grunt, he slammed into the far wall of the room.

“Do your thing, Red. I’ve got your back.” Faith crossed her arms and glared at Professor Walsh, daring her to try something.

***

As Willow began typing, Tara edged farther into the room. Things were going so well… Clearing her throat uncomfortably, she said softly, “Bu-Buffy? What about all those vamp-pires and demons? And the soldiers?” Even if Willow managed to disable the computers and whatever the two scientists had created, they couldn’t risk forgetting about the rest of the dangers in the underground facility.

“Uh…” Buffy rocked in place. “I hadn’t gotten that far.”

The comment drew a snort from Professor Walsh. “It’s a good thing we only needed your body as a vessel. My God. Charging in here with no plan. How typical.”

Tara swore she could hear Buffy’s teeth grind together. “Lucky for poor, dumb me, I _do_ have a plan.” She smirked and waved her knife at Willow. “ _That’s_ who you should have gotten to supply your brain.”

Buffy probably hadn’t meant her statement to be funny. However, Tara had to fight back an inappropriate giggle. She was glad for the self-control when the reality of what Buffy said finally sank in. Willow seemed to be the Head Researcher, witch, and all around mastermind. That was too much responsibility for one person. Despite her usual reluctance to take the lead, Tara stepped in. They needed a plan. Now. And Willow was busy. She and Buffy would have to strategize.

Not even her short time as part of the gang convinced Tara that Faith would be an asset for this part of the evening. She was definitely the “muscle.”

“Professor.” Tara’s voice wavered; although, there wasn’t any stutter. “I assume there is another way out of this tunnel.”

Walsh’s face tightened and she pressed her lips together.

Great. Feeling as if she was in a room of stubborn children, Tara glared at the older woman. “I don’t really need an answer. Buffy, I know there is another way to leave. This place…” She pointed to the equipment and the man/demon on the table. “Unless all those soldiers know about the experiment, the professor needed an entrance for supplies.”

This time, Buffy _did_ look back, and Tara flushed at the obviously approving expression.

She also enjoyed Faith’s husky, “Damn. You better be careful, Red. Looks like T’s tryin’ to compete in the brain department.”

“Brains and brawn.” Voice more confident than before, Buffy turned back to Professor Walsh. “Tell us how to find the exit. The ride stopped being fun a long time ago, and I don’t want a second trip.”

Walsh crossed her arms. “No,” she announced defiantly.

Buffy’s smile caused goose bumps to rise on Tara’s arms. “Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.” Her smile grew. “And this time, it’s my chance to show off.” In one, lithe stride, she crossed the lab. A beeping monitor near the exam table suddenly soared through the air, the cord still attached to the electrical unit snapping in half from the momentum. “Tell me what I want to know.”

For the first time, Tara thought Walsh appeared less arrogant. “You can’t do this! My research is important.” She didn’t explain why, or what, exactly, she and Englemann were studying.

Before Buffy could approach Walsh further, Willow got up from the desk. “Leave her alone, Buff. I’ve got a lock on all her ‘research.’” In a comical display of scorn, Willow made air quotes on either side of her head. “Professor Frankenstein won’t be creating any more monsters.”

Walsh went so pale even the color left in her face from the fluorescent lights disappeared.

“And the vampires?” Tara wasn’t getting sidetracked by their one, small victory. She didn’t allow Willow time to respond. Buffy and Faith were the Slayers. They specialized in exterminating vampires. “Can you two h-handle so many at once?” Then, feeling mean for continuing to point out the flaws in their victory, Tara asked, “And what do we do about the guys with g-guns?”

Buffy and Faith exchanged glances. “From the way things feel, we need reinforcements. Once we get out of here…” Tara heard the unspoken _if_ we get out of here. “…we’ll grab Giles and Mom and head back.”

Willow waved a hand. “Oops. My bad.” Her grin announced she was anything but. “I must have forgotten to mention I locked up all the pet vamps and demons. They’ll stay in the cages the Professor built until we have a plan.”

“That’s my girl,” Faith said as she sauntered up to Englemann and shoved the sharp edge of her broken chair leg against his throat. “And the soldiers are the easy part. All we gotta do is take Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb with us. Don’t think the bullets’ll be flyin’ if they’re in the way.”

That took care of all of the threats except one. The one Tara had deliberately left off of her list.

Ethan was _her_ problem. Buffy and Faith were built to kill demons, not magic users. Willow was too untrained – and too impulsive. Unfortunately, Tara was no closer to a solution to beating Ethan in a magical showdown now than she had been earlier that night.

“You comin’, T?” Tara had been so occupied by her thoughts that she had missed everyone moving back into the narrow hallway. Faith regarded her with a worried frown from the entryway, one hand clenched tightly around the lapel of Englemann’s shirt and the other still brandishing the chair leg.

Hurrying after the group, Tara tried to smile. “S-sorry. I just…” She just what? Tara struggled to explain her lack of action and distraction. If she mentioned Ethan, Tara risked involving Willow, at the very least, in any eventual fight. “I’m coming.” Avoiding any further comment, she shadowed Faith and her reluctant companion out of the lab.

“Stay alert, guys.” Buffy and Walsh were up front. “I don’t trust the professor not to have some kind of booby trap.”

The group’s pace slowed at that. Everyone was on alert. Tara crept along behind Faith and Englemann. From above, she heard faint sounds of movement and shouting. The soldiers? Without realizing it, Tara sped up – and nearly slammed into Englemann’s back. No one was moving now.

Why not?

Tara bit her lip and held back the question. Instead, she focused on breathing without panting too noticeably and casting out carefully with her senses.

A hint of magic floated around them. It clung in random patches to the walls and ceiling. Ethan had been here. He’d been a part of Walsh’s plot, despite Englemann’s lack of knowledge. That wasn’t a surprise.

As a new metallic whir began at the head of the ragged group, Tara pushed out further.

That’s when she felt it.

The _real_ surprise.

“Buffy!” Fear sharpened Tara’s voice. “We have to go. Now!”


	32. Chapter 32

“Ethan and the rest of the bad guys?” Buffy didn’t appear terribly surprised as she asked Tara for clarification.

Still thrumming from the clanging of her internal warning system, Tara said (with more force than she was accustomed to using), “Yes! Ethan’s on the way. I can feel him.” She had overtaken Faith and Englemann. Needing to get as far as possible from the growing surge of magic behind her, she pushed frantically at the pair. Damn it! Why were they going so slow now? Tara couldn’t stop Ethan. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Unfortunately, no one else seemed to realize that. In fact, Faith smirked. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, T. We’re almost outside. Ethan’s not gonna toss a fireball where the college kiddies could see. Even the campus cops would notice crispy co-eds on the quad.”

Tara thought seriously about stamping her feet and screaming – or grabbing Faith by the arms and shaking her. They were all crazy. Completely crazy. Ethan had already gone after Buffy in a public place _and_ he’d managed to capture Tara, herself, and Willow out in the open with magic. She didn’t say any of that, however. Bottling it up, Tara forced herself to stay silent as she trotted alongside the rest of their ragtag group. At least Faith had been correct about one thing: they were near the end of the tunnel.

The sound Tara had heard a minute ago had been the raising of a well-camouflaged metal door.  Starlight glimmered ahead. _Now_ the pace picked up. Tara fell back a few steps as the group sprinted for freedom.

As soon as they had cleared the tunnel, Buffy skidded to a halt and scanned the area intently. “OK, folks. Here’s the plan,” Buffy announced. “We need to get back to the Jeep, but I’m betting the guys with guns are waiting for us. That means we do this the hard way.”

***

Despite the fact her voice was steady, Buffy’s mind raced. What the hell were they going to do? What if Faith’s assertion that the soldiers wouldn’t attack with Englemann and Walsh in the firing line was wrong? What if Ethan didn’t care if someone saw him doing magic? Pushing those scenarios brutally aside, Buffy continued to pretend things were under control. They didn’t have time for her to panic.

That could come later, after they were all home safely.

“Will, there’s an emergency alarm by the back entrance to the dorms over in Nine. I need you to pull it.” Buffy’s smile felt forced. “Let’s hope UCS’ brochure is right about how fast the cops respond. We need a distraction to keep Riley and his goons out of the way.”

“The rest of us headin’ to the car?” Faith didn’t sound happy about that. Or… was her problem with Buffy’s decision to send Willow going off alone?

Buffy didn’t let that thought stop her from unveiling the next part of her plan. “No.” She gripped the back of Walsh’s lab coat with her left hand and held her right in Faith’s direction. “Give me the Colonel. I need you to go get the Jeep.”

“B…” Faith started to say.

Damn it! Why couldn’t she just accept orders for once? Buffy scowled. “Look, Faith, I’m not arguing.” Arguing never did any good with Faith so Buffy changed tack. “If _I_ tried to drive over here, there’d be a string of destroyed road signs and dented cars. You don’t suffer from Slayer Syndrome behind the wheel. I don’t want to have to explain to Mom how the Jeep got banged up.”

Her strategy of non-aggression backfired. “T can do it. I’ll go with Red,” Faith said. She shoved Englemann in Buffy’s direction.

“No.” If Faith wanted to take this farther, Buffy would have to seriously pull rank – or enlist Willow’s help. “Will goes alone. Tara doesn’t have Slayer speed. You do.” Meeting Faith’s eyes, Buffy dared… _willed_ Faith to see reason. “And if you stay here, and Ethan comes tearing out of the tunnel on a magic cloud, we’re all dead. Tara’s our security blanket.”

Buffy pretended not to see Tara’s expression of open-mouthed disbelief. She could only hope Faith hadn’t noticed; otherwise, she wasn’t going to let Willow go without personally escorting her.

Scowl firmly in place, Faith nodded tightly. “Don’t know why the fuck you can’t learn to drive, B. I been drivin’ since I was eight.” The implication that Buffy had reached new lows of incompetence was clear. “Red,” she added in a softer voice, “be careful.”

Despite the inner flinch at Faith’s jab at her driving, Buffy almost reconsidered. Faith was right. She _should_ be able to do something as simple as drive. And she was always sending Willow and Faith off in separate and dangerous directions. “We’ll be right behind you, Willow. Tara and I will give you a head start.” It was going to be a struggle to drag her two uncooperative captives across the meadow, but Buffy vowed to find a way. “Once you have the Jeep, Faith, pick Willow up and meet us as the edge of the meadow by Nine. If you don’t see us…”

“If you ain’t there, B, I’ll come get you. Four wheel drive means hopping over the bushes and shit.” Faith didn’t bother say anything more. She kissed Willow quickly and sprinted away.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep the damage to campus to a minimum,” Willow promised. She flashed a bright grin and then took off in the opposite direction. Buffy watched her run down the sidewalk and prayed there were no more of Riley’s friends waiting in the shadows. Prayed that her best friend would be safe.

Finally tearing her eyes away from Willow’s progress, Buffy took a step in the same direction. Of course, her progress was immediately impeded as Professor Walsh planted both feet against the sidewalk. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” Walsh snapped. “Let me go. I have important work to do.”

Buffy’s teeth ground together. She refused to get into a verbal sparring match. Giving the Slayer a bit more freedom, she continued after Willow – while Walsh staggered and spluttered in her grasp.

It was slow going, as she’d expected. By the time they’d reached the leading edge of grass, Buffy’s arms and legs ached. Walsh and Englemann, fighting every step of the way, sapped her energy. Maybe it would be easier if she simply knocked them out…

Her happy thoughts were interrupted. “Buffy, I think Ethan’s getting closer.” Tara bit at her lip and stared fearfully over her shoulder. “He’s… I don’t kn-know. The m-magic is so strong.”

“Too strong?” Buffy wasn’t stupid. She’d seen the signs and heard the stutter. Tara was terrified, and getting more so by the minute. This was way bigger than any amount of shyness could account for.

Tara didn’t answer right away. Buffy watched her frown, and her eyes seemed to grow unfocused.

It didn’t appear to be a good time for questions so Buffy left Tara alone but picked up the pace and pushed her senses to the limit. God, she missed the days when the only thing she had to worry about was the Master or Angelus. Fighting humans and their magical associates wasn’t in the Slayer job description, and Buffy knew she and the Scoobies weren’t equipped to deal with the changes.

“He’s looking for us.” Tara managed to match Buffy’s pace thanks to Buffy’s prisoners and trotted alongside her. “I c-can’t st-stop him.”

Looking didn’t sound so scary to Buffy. The finding, though… All of her aborted conversations with Willow about magic came back to haunt Buffy as she and Tara did their best to sprint for safety with their reluctant captives in tow. If only she’d taken the time to listen to Willow’s rambles about spells and power sources, she might be able to help Tara now.

They’d only made halfway across the Meadow when Buffy realized there might be a new problem. Her Slayer senses spiked. There was a vampire or demon close by. Just what they needed.  “Tara…” Buffy started to warn the other girl – and then her internal light bulb suddenly sprang to blinding life. Vampires. Magic. Angel. That was the answer. “I’ve got it!”

“Wh-what?” Buffy wasn’t sure if Tara’s staccato speech was caused by her normal stutter or her out of control panting.

***

Tara didn’t understand Buffy’s excited announcement _or_ her jubilant smile. What did she have?

“I know how to keep Ethan from finding us,” Buffy continued, oblivious to Tara’s doubts. “Use a mirror.”

A mirror? Clearly, all the stress from the evening has affected Buffy. How would a mirror help? “Buffy, I d-don’t understand.” Nor did she have a mirror. “D-do you w-want me to f-find Wil-low?” Maybe it was a Scooby thing. Maybe Willow or even Faith would know what Buffy meant.

“No. No, we don’t need Willow. _You_ can do this.” Buffy hadn’t slowed her pace, and Tara prayed she could continue to keep up. “Angel explained it to me once. If you use a mirror, a magical mirror, you can hide us from Ethan. We’ll still be here; he just won’t be able to see us.”

The remaining air in Tara’s lungs seemed to disappear. Buffy wanted her to build a mirror out of raw energy? That wasn’t possible.

As if sensing Tara’s doubts, Buffy’s tone went from factual to cajoling. “Come on. I know you can do it. You and Will have been big with the magic since the bar. And you helped me come out of the spell Ethan put on me.” Even in the dim lighting, Tara saw Buffy’s teeth flash in a confident smile.

Tara ignored the encouragement. Buffy was crazy. She wouldn’t even know where to start.

A cold chill touched Tara, derailing her mental quandary. Phantom fingers brushed her skin and poked at her shields.

Skidding to a halt, Tara changed her mind. All of a sudden, a mirror didn’t sound so bad. At least, not as bad as letting Ethan have free access to her powers. He was close – and getting closer. Tara closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of Buffy, Walsh, and Englemann, who were also coming to a stop. Alone in the faux darkness, she triggered a mantra her mother had used to meditate.

Even the faint sounds of insects and wind in the trees faded.

Tara opened her inner eyes. The Meadow was gone. Or…the normal physical representation of it was no longer there. Only the bright lines and flickering outlines of magical energy remained. Reaching out, Tara grabbed the nearest runnel of power.

Energy trickled through her channels like a warm current. The slow ebb and flow wasn’t enough. Maintaining her hold on the ley line, Tara reached for another. And another. With painstaking care, she added the magical power boost of every power source in the area save one. 

Her skin felt tight and hot from the influx. Shaking slightly, Tara repeated the mantra again, feeling the magic welling inside her settle.

Tara was as ready as she would ever get. Releasing the floodgates holding the magic within her channels, Tara poured the energy into a convex form. It fought her control, though. There was too much power, too much surface area. The outthrust bowl of the shape wavered and odd bubbles appeared randomly.

Fighting with the unruly magic, Tara reached out again. There had to be a way to tame the wild magic. She needed help. “Buffy,” she cried out.

“What? What’s wrong?” Tara couldn’t see Buffy’s face. She could hear the fear, though, along with a grim determination.

There wasn’t time for a complete explanation. “C-can I use you? Your mag-gic…” A rapidly growing glow emanated from the tunnel, painfully stabbing at Tara’s inner vision. Ethan had found them. It was too late. _She_ was too late.

That last thought spurred Tara to desperate measures. “B-Buffy…” The real world snapped back into focus, overlaying the still-bright sparkle of the ley lines when Tara opened her physical eyes. “I can’t d-do this alone. ­Eth-than’s right b-behind us. You’re the Slayer. Your power…”

Before she could finish, tell Buffy exactly what she needed, Buffy answered. “Do whatever you need to, Tara. Take what you need.”

Tara disregarded all of her training for the second time that night. Reaching for Buffy, the last pure power source in the Meadow, was easier than grasping the ley lines. Her energy radiated through the meadow. However, Tara had fallen prey to fear and hadn’t thought the action through. Combining the magic from the ley lines had pushed the edges of her control. Borrowing energy from Buffy was akin to jumping into the Grand Canyon and plunging full speed into the Colorado River. Tara recoiled, ephemeral hands blistered from their brief contact with Buffy’s enormous power.

That left only one option. “Run!” Tara snapped.

Buffy hesitated for only a second before dragging Walsh and Englemann across the Meadow again. “Don’t worry, Tara. Faith’s had time to get to the Jeep. She’s probably picking Willow up right now.”

If only Buffy knew… Tara didn’t move. She couldn’t. She had to safely return the energy she’d borrowed. She couldn’t do that on the run.   

“Come on!” Buffy’s voice was shockingly loud as she called out to Tara.

In a minute, Tara wanted to respond. She’d be there in a minute. First, though, Tara concentrated on reversing the flow of energy in her channels, flushing the conduits clear. Caught up in pushing the waves back into their proper and natural pathways, Tara didn’t notice the new sound that overshadowed Buffy’s continued shouts. A roar. Deep and throaty and teamed with bright lights. Tara ignored it all. The flow of magic in her channels slowly returned to normal as she bled off the excess and watched it flow back into the Earth. The process left her drained and dizzy. Raising a trembling hand, she blinked dazedly into the brilliant white lights lighting up the Meadow.


	33. Chapter 33

“Someone order a getaway car?” Faith’s voice rose above the roar of the Jeep’s engine, her grin almost as blinding as the headlights cutting through the darkness.

Tara staggered forward. Her legs felt like rubber bands; they shook and wavered and seemed to have no solid structure. The continued tingle of Ethan’s magic, however, made overcoming that obstacle easier. Tara simply ignored her legs and let fear drive her to the Jeep. Buffy was already perched in the back. One leg dangled from the passenger side door and she held out a helping hand as Tara scrambled inside.

It was a tight fit. Thanks to Englemann and Walsh, the normally roomy SUV had no available space. Squeezing onto the seat, Tara found herself inadvertently holding Buffy as the Jeep leapt forward the second she sat down. 

“Any problems, guys?” Buffy sounded out of breath as she asked her question.

Faith’s shrug was visible despite the darkness. “What d’ya expect, B? Even if the Men in Black got guns, they ain’t real bright. Ran into a pile of ‘em in the parking lot and put a Slayer hurt on ‘em. Then I went to get Red; real glad _she_ didn’t find any friends out there.” Her voice hoarsened to a near growl over the final few words.

Thanks to their proximity, Tara felt Buffy stiffen. She automatically stroked her hands up and down Buffy’s arms in response. “I’m glad you’re OK, too, F-Faith.” The atmosphere in the SUV was seconds from an explosion as Buffy and Faith silently squared off. “And th-thank you f-for sav-saving us from Ethan.”

For a second, Tara didn’t think her intervention would help. Then Faith appeared to relax behind the wheel. “Any time, Blondie. I’m thinking, though, that you gotta stop with the late night walks across campus. First you’re a vamp snack and now you got Evil Dudes with guns and magic chasing after ya’.”

Crisis averted. Tara chuckled and leaned closer to Buffy so she could meet Faith’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Why w-would I stop? I’ve got you to pr-protect me.” Choking the words out amid more laughter, she teased. “My Kn-Knight in Shin-ning Armor.”

“Sorry, Tara. I can’t let her do that.” Willow grinned as she turned in her seat and rested her chin on the back of the seat. “Faith’s spoken for. I only let her wear _that_ outfit for me. Buffy can do it, though, can’t you, Buff? Buffy was there for me every time things got crazy until I found Faith.”

There was a strained pause, and Tara wanted to pound her head in frustration. What was causing the problem this time? As she opened her mouth, vowing to tell the Scoobies to grow up, Buffy began to sing.

“You gotta have Faith, Faith, Faith…” Buffy’s off-key rendition of George was drowned by Faith’s howl from the front seat.

“I told ya’ not to say that anymore, Red. You know it sets B off.” Her voice lowered. “Crazy bitch; always pushin’ my buttons.” Tara wasn’t sure if she referred to Buffy or Willow with that last remark. “Why don’t ya’ stop playing, B, and see if you can twist some info out of the Professor? It’d be wicked to hit Tweed with the news for once. Make him think we ain’t as stupid as he thinks.”

Whoever Faith had been addressing proved to be irrelevant. Willow sobered quickly and patted Faith’s arm. “We don’t have to do anything to Professor Walsh, Faith. I have the printouts, remember? Give me a chance to read the whole pile. I’m sure it will tell us what we need to know, and if it doesn’t, I’ll just hack into the system again.” Tara glimpsed Willow’s wide smile. “She may be renowned as a psychologist, but the professor doesn’t do well when it comes to computer security. Wanna bet that that she’s on the panel that keeps telling me UCS doesn’t need to upgrade its system?”

***

Thank God. Buffy hoped her relief didn’t show. “Thanks, Will,” she said. Thanks for always having the answers – and for making sure Buffy didn’t have to ‘twist’ information out of the two doctors. Vampires and demons were fine for punching practice. Buffy drew the line at humans, though. Unfortunately, if they didn’t need their captives… “Where should we stash the Brain Trust?”

Apparently no one else had followed her thought process. There was an uncomfortable silence, marred only by the rumble of the engine and the hum of the tires against the road.

“Perhaps we were wrong, Englemann,” Walsh said.

Buffy barely spared her a glance, though. She was too busy wrestling with their latest problem. Well, she thought it was the biggest item on the agenda until Walsh kept talking.

“Are you listening to this? They’re children.” The disappointed, almost pitying, sound in Walsh’s voice grated on Buffy’s already ragged nerves. “Not even your genius with computer chips could have fixed Buffy. Or that other one.” She leaned forward before Buffy could stop her. “What was your name, dear? Faith?”

The Jeep swerved slightly as Faith’s head whipped around so she could glare at Walsh.

“Faith!” Willow dove across the front seat and steadied the wheel. “Ignore her. She’s even better than Buffy at pushing buttons.” Not backing down, even when Faith transferred her glare, Willow explained. “Believe me. I know all about Walsh. You should see the way she winds up the kids in class. We’re her personal puppets, performing for the perfect grade.”

It was true. Buffy roughly shoved Walsh back against the seat. “Wicked Walsh. That’s what we call her when she’s not there.” Talking helped alleviate her own sudden anger at Walsh’s comments. What had she meant anyway? She and Faith didn’t need fixing.

Did they?

A warm hand touched Buffy’s thigh. “B…Buffy?” Tara smiled hesitantly when Buffy glanced her way. “I’m su-sure the prof-fessor is only t-trying to dr-drive a wedge between us.”

Reaching down, Buffy idly linked her fingers with Tara’s. She realized the other girl was right. Some of the lingering anger and doubt drained away. “Not us, Tara,” she responded. Walsh was too smart for that. She’d seen her and Willow together. They weren’t the weak link. “Me and Faith. Walsh just doesn’t get it.”

From Tara’s quick frown, neither did she.

“Faith and I argue. A lot.” Honesty forced Buffy to continue wryly. “Sometimes we fight. But when the chips are down, we’re here for each other. Walsh forgot the most important thing. We’re ‘The Chosen Two’. The Slayers. No matter what, we get the job done.”

“Got that right, B,” Faith interjected softly. “Walsh is a stupid bitch…” Her words ended in a disgruntled yelp after Willow smacked her arm.

Buffy smiled. They’d be… No, they _were_ fine. “OK. Back to the big question, guys. What do we do with these guys? Even if Faith’s right, and Riley and company won’t risk hurting them, I don’t think they’ll sit around and do nothing. They’re going to come after us.”

“And they know where we live.” Willow peered over the back seat. “I mean, this is the government.” Pointing at Englemann, she hurried on. “I bet they know everything about us, Buffy. Where we live. All of our relatives. Where we’re likely to go to hide. We can’t stay at the apartment or your mom’s or Giles’ place. Riley probably has people on the way there now.”

Damn. Buffy hadn’t thought of that. “We have to go to the apartment right away, Will!” They didn’t have a choice. “Mom and Giles are waiting, and I’m not leaving them there to face the goon squad.” Her voice grew urgent. If Willow was right about the reach of the government, they might already be too late. “Faith, hurry!”

The Jeep leaped forward immediately. “On it, B.” And Faith was. They careened through Sunnydale in a way that made Buffy feel slightly less panicked – even if she _did_ have to brace her feet on the floorboard and the back of the driver’s seat.

“Buffy, where are we going to go?” Willow’s hands fluttered in the air, as if reaching for the laptop that was her almost constant companion.

“I…I don’t know,” Buffy admitted. None of their usual hangouts was safe, and they couldn’t leave town. Angel’s mansion? Staying there would bring back memories. It was an emotional risk Buffy was willing to take if it kept them all alive. She opened her mouth and then reconsidered. If Walsh and her connections had done their homework, they might have uncovered her past with the vampire formerly known as Angelus. “What about the old high school?” Talk about memories…

Willow’s eyes rounded. “Buffy, it’s a pile of rubble. We blew it up. Remember?”

Before Buffy could respond, Faith let go of the wheel with her right hand and gently patted Willow’s side. “Even B ain’t forgetting graduation, Red. I think she’s just tryin’ to find a good hideout.” Her eyes met Buffy’s in the rearview mirror, telling Buffy to let her handle the situation.

Giving Faith a nod, Buffy tuned out the suddenly low murmur of voices from the front seat. Faith had it under control; she’d get Willow past the small matter of moving them all into the nearly-destroyed Sunnydale High School. Unfortunately, getting her mother – and Giles – to buy into the relocation was her responsibility. Buffy closed her eyes. She could see the scene so clearly.

_Buffy sprinted into the apartment. “Mom, we have to go. Hurry!”_

_Surrounded by books and the remains of coffee cake and cups of tea, Joyce looked up. “Go where, honey? It’s late, and you know I have to be up early for work.”_

_“We found a super secret military base under campus. My psych professor and her Colonel boyfriend have been building Frankensteins in a lab.” Opening the entry hall closet, Buffy scrambled for Faith’s stash of stakes and weapons. “The gang’s down in the Jeep, but we have to hide out. Riley – Walsh’s TA – is after us with a bunch of gun carrying crazies.”_

Yep. That would be effective. If Joyce didn’t laugh, she’d have Buffy back in a mental hospital in no time.

The Jeep skidded into the apartment parking lot while Buffy wrestled inside the confines of a phantom straight jacket. “B, you gonna need help with Giles and Mrs. S?” Faith sounded as if she were hoping the answer was no, and she hadn’t taken her hands off the steering wheel.

“No. I got it.” Buffy carefully wiggled off Tara’s lap, resisting a sudden urge to cling to her like a safety blanket, and opened the passenger-side door. “Just keep an eye on our friends back here. I don’t want to waste time chasing them down.” Although, it might be more fun than her current project. Catching Tara’s reassuring smile in the dim illumination provided by the dome light, Buffy realized she was acting like an idiot. So military black ops were different than their run of the mill apocalypses. Her mother and Giles were used to danger. They’d be on board as soon as Buffy explained the situation. They had always been big proponents of Scooby Rule Number One. Staying alive meant running for safety this time.

With that thought firmly in mind, Buffy closed the door and sprinted for the stairs. With a judicious use of Slayer speed, the trip took seconds. Barely breathing hard, she dug her spare key from her pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped inside Willow’s apartment – and into her earlier vision.

Joyce’s head snapped up from the book she had been reading. “Buffy, honey, is everything OK? Did you and the girls find something?”

Buffy stared in horror at the piles of books and papers littering the room. The plates with crumbs and uneaten bites of coffee cake. The cooling cups of tea. “I’m not crazy!”

“Does that mean you _did_ , in fact, find the cause of the alert in your senses?” Giles straightened his glasses and reached for a notepad and pencil. “What, precisely, are we dealing with? A new demon?”

The familiarity of his questions snapped Buffy back to reality. Flushing at her overreaction, she took a deep breath. “I don’t have time to explain everything right now. I need you and Mom to pack up some food and whatever books you can’t live without. I’ll grab weapons.” Suiting actions to words, she opened the hall closet. “It’s time to take a trip down memory lane, guys. Next stop: Sunnydale High.”


	34. Chapter 34

The car door closed behind Buffy, and Tara immediately wanted to call her back. Faith and Willow whispered quietly and intently in the front seat, still discussing the move to Sunnydale High School. That left _her_ alone with Englemann and Walsh.

Both of them stared at her.

It was an uncomfortable situation. Tara tried to meet their combined gazes – and lasted less than a minute. Her face heated (actually, her entire body) and her heart rate raced.

“Perhaps you can talk some sense into the rest of the group?” Professor Walsh leaned closer to Tara and smiled. “There really isn’t any need to hold us hostage, Miss…?”

“M-Maclay,” Tara stuttered automatically.

“Miss Maclay. I’m sure we can clear up this whole mess in the morning.” Walsh gestured toward Englemann. “The Colonel and I are scientists. That’s all. We aren’t a threat to anyone.” Her voice grew softer, almost conspiratorial. “I’d be happy to show you the research we’re working on. You might find it interesting.”

That was true. “Yes. Yes, I would.” Tara managed to scoot another few inches away from Walsh and fought a shudder. The woman was crazy. Did she really think she could convince Tara they’d made a mistake? That they’d misinterpreted the lab and the experiments?

Apparently so. “Perfect.” Walsh’s smile widened as if she sensed victory at hand. “Then the Colonel and I will just…”

“Sit your sorry asses down,” Faith interrupted tersely. “If ya’ don’t, I’ll have to make you.” She turned in the front seat and glowered. “And B ain’t here to keep things friendly. I gotta come back there, you won’t be havin’ fun.”

Tara barely restrained an inappropriate giggle at Faith’s threat. She sounded like a stereotypical parent with a child.

“How about I use a little spell to keep them quiet, honey?” Willow asked – and Tara’s amusement evaporated. “That book I borrowed from Giles last week had a kickass binding spell, and I’m pretty sure I remember all the words.”

“That w-won’t be nec-cessary.” No way was Tara letting Willow do _any_ magic, let alone an unknown, untested spell. Pinning Walsh and Englemann with a steely glare, she continued. “Will it, Professor?” The woman had to know about the dangers of magic. Ethan was part of her plans.

It appeared, though, that Walsh wasn’t as smart as she pretended. Instead of agreeing with Tara, she snorted. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe Miss Rosenberg has any kind of arcane ability?”  

Willow lurched forward until her upper body loomed over the back of the seat. “I’ll show you…”

A sudden surge in the ambient energy in the Jeep sent Tara internally scrambling. Her right hand snapped up as she whispered a single harsh word. Thanks to the need for speed – and a desire to illustrate to her _entire_ audience the efficacy of real magic – a shimmering wall of blue energy sprang up between Willow and Walsh. “Sit down,” Tara ordered, “and be quiet.” She left it up to the rest of the group in the Jeep to decide to whom the command was meant.

For the first time in Tara’s life, people listened to her. Walsh froze, the sneer still twisting her lips, and Willow stared at Tara with wide, shocked eyes. Carefully grounding the energy she’d borrowed, Tara slowly settled back in the seat.

Tara only had a few minutes to enjoy the fruits of her labor, however. “We got company,” Faith announced tersely.

“S-soldiers?” Tara asked, wondering how they’d found them so quickly.

“Looks like. Kinda hard to tell.” Reaching up, Faith flicked the switch on the interior dome light, ensuring it would remain off, and then cracked the driver’s side door. “I keep bitchin’ at the super to get the lights out here fixed. Even Slayer sight ain’t good enough to see right now. I’m gonna check it out.” She turned and looked at Tara. “You and Red’ll have to keep the Brain Trust from runnin’.”

The words didn’t make sense. “Wh-what?” Tara frowned.

“Go ahead, Faith. We can take care of it.” Willow had apparently followed the conversation. Or, Tara realized as she shook off her confusion, she didn’t seem to understand that using magic wasn’t a cure-all. “You saw what Tara did a minute ago. Walsh and Englemann won’t get away, I promise.”

Great. _Willow_ promised the hostages would still be in the Jeep. Tara didn’t have time to point out that _she_ hadn’t vowed anything of the sort. In fact, she would have explained how drained she was and how dangerous it would be for her to try anything more complicated than a prayer right now.

Unfortunately, Faith hopped out of the SUV while Tara was marshaling her arguments.

The new silence in the car felt different than before. The balance of power had altered. Walsh and Englemann no longer huddled in fear. In fact…Shifting until her back was against the rear passenger-side door, Tara glared in what she devoutly hoped was a menacing fashion at the two scientists.

Goddess, Buffy needed to get back soon, or they were going to have a problem.

***

"Were we incorrect in assuming the threat was on the university campus?” Giles must have missed Buffy’s comment about not having time to explain. Buffy could almost feel him staring at her in bemusement.

Stuffing stakes and daggers into a duffel bag, she pointedly ignored him. “You’ll have to take Mom and the supplies in your car, Giles,” Buffy finally said. Then, realizing neither of the adults had actually moved, she spun and glared. “Look, we have to hurry. Things got a little freaky on campus and we have to leave.”

Giles’ mouth opened.

“And don’t ask any more questions. When we get to the high school, I’ll explain.” Or try to. Buffy wasn’t sure she understood everything herself. Maybe she’d give explanation duty to Willow. “Right now, stop staring and start packing.”

Not waiting for a response, Buffy decided she had plenty of small weapons and trotted down the hallway. Faith kept the heavy duty pieces in the bedroom. The duffel bag wasn’t big enough for the two swords or the crossbow. Feeling like a tiny Rambo, she looped the crossbow over one shoulder and rigged the swordbelts across the other. The tips dragged the ground with every step as Buffy made a final examination of the weapons cabinet. A pair of matching sais and a pile of crossbow bolts filled the last space in the duffel bag.

It was time to leave. At least, that was Buffy’s intention – until she spotted Willow’s computer on the bed. Slayers used sharp, pointy objects. Genius budding witches were more deadly with the Internet. Buffy inexpertly crammed the laptop and power cord into the padded backpack she found stuffed next to Willow’s nightstand and staggered back into the living room.

“We’re ready, honey.” Joyce stood by the door with plastic grocery sacks bulging with food looped over her arms and shoulders. “I sent Rupert down to get his car.” Her lips twitched. “I thought he might need the extra time to get it started.”

Buffy chuckled. “That’s low, Mom.” And yet, true. “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Faith.” She eased past Joyce and opened the apartment door. “Stay close and be ready to run,” she cautioned, warning replacing humor. “We created a diversion on campus, but…”

Nodding, Joyce met Buffy’s eyes. “I read the Slayerette Handbook, Buffy. I know the rules. You lead; I follow.”

“Thanks.” Buffy slid out of the apartment and paused. She could faintly hear cars idling in the parking lot, and a dog barked in one of the nearby units. The scent of curry burned her nose. Her Slayer senses, though, remained blip free. “Let’s go,” she ordered softly, hitching the swordbelts higher on her shoulders.

She couldn’t use Slayer speed on the trip back to the Jeep. Each step, each scrape of scabbard on concrete, each shift in the wind caused Buffy to twitch. They had to hurry.

They were. Buffy heard Joyce panting as they cleared the final step. “Oh, shit! Find Giles, Mom. Now!” Sprinting for the Jeep, Buffy hoped her mother followed orders. The SUV rocked in the parking space, and she glimpsed bodies flailing around inside. What the hell was Faith doing in there?

When she finally arrived at the Jeep and wrenched the driver’s side passenger door open, it became clear that Faith wasn’t doing anything. Faith wasn’t among the bodies sprawled on and over the seats.

“Hey, Buff!” Winded and flushed, Willow still managed a bright smile. “Tara and I had things under control. Walsh wasn’t getting away.” She wiggled her right hand where it was tangled in the professor’s lab coat.

Buffy chose not to argue that point – even though Walsh’s escape had more than likely been imminent. “Thanks for taking care of things,” she said smoothly. Reaching out, she gripped a free spot on Walsh’s coat and forcibly rearranged her on the back seat. “You know, I left Faith here to handle the physical stuff. We’re saving you and Tara for the fireworks later.” It took all her self control not to come right out and ask why Faith wasn’t in the SUV.

Tara’s head suddenly appeared at the far side of the Jeep. “Sh-she s-saw som-something.” Even in the dark, Buffy saw the bright blush staining her cheeks as the stuttering words ground to a halt.

Wait. The blush didn’t look right. Pressing Walsh into the seatback and roughly shoving the Colonel out of the way, Buffy leaned into the vehicle. “Tara, you’re hurt!” A bruise marred the skin under Tara’s left eye and there was a line of scratches on her neck.

Faith was history. Buffy silently vowed to...explain the responsibilities of staying behind with the support crew the next time they squared off on the practice mats.

“N-no.” Buffy wasn’t surprised at Tara’s immediate denial. “I’m f-fine.”

“No,” Buffy echoed. “You’re _not_ fine.” Reaching out, she gently brushed the bruised skin. “Not fine at all.” Her fingertips tingled. “Who was it?” Buffy would take care of the culprit – right after her talk with Faith.

A slow smile answered Buffy’s demand. “Why? So you c-can turn Cave Bu-Buffy loose?” Tara took Buffy’s hand, pulling it away from her face. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine. It’s only a bruise, B-Buffy. I’ve had worse.”

That wasn’t the point, Buffy wanted to protest. She didn’t. Looking into Tara’s eyes, she glimpsed a hint of old pain. Not wanting to add to those obviously unwelcome memories, Buffy gave in. “I’ll keep Cave Buffy under wraps. This time. If it happens again, though, I won’t be responsible for my actions. It’ll be hair pulling and heavy clubs all the way.”


	35. Chapter 35

Buffy felt marginally better when Tara laughed softly. That didn’t mean she wasn’t still planning to have a long talk with Faith – and probably Englemann and Walsh as well. “Will, climb out and give me a hand stashing the weapons and your laptop. Mom should be here with Giles in a minute with food and research-y type things.”

The front passenger-side door popped open immediately. “What about Faith?” Willow’s voice sounded accusing as she continued. “You can’t leave her to fight humans alone. Not after…”

Not after Finch, Buffy finished mentally. “And I can’t leave you and Tara here by yourselves.” It wasn’t enough of a reassurance. She watched Willow’s jaw tighten in the gloom of the parking lot. “As soon as Mom or Giles gets here, I’ll go check on her.”

Resolve Face seemed imminent when Willow’s eyes narrowed.

“I promise.” Buffy averted her eyes before Willow silently convinced her to go after Faith now. Faith was a Slayer. Faith could take care of herself, and she wasn’t the same person she’d been when they’d run into Finch in that alley. All the same, Buffy prayed Giles would get there soon. No matter how good Faith was, bullets easily trumped super strength and speed.

In tense silence, they loaded Buffy’s cache of weaponry into the rear of the Jeep. When the last stake was carefully settled, she spun and scanned the parking lot. A pair of dim, yellowed headlights illuminated a far corner. “Giles is on the way,” Buffy told Willow. “And Faith is fine,” she was grateful to be able to add when a shadowy shape sprinted their way.

“Get in, B. We’re outta time.” Faith didn’t slow down as she ran past them and tore open the driver’s side door. “I took care of the three stooges stakin’ out the place, but I heard one of ‘em call for backup on the radio. We’re gonna be swimming in soldiers soon.”

Great. “Mom’s with Giles,” Buffy said. She gently shoved Willow toward the car and then scrambled into the back seat, squeezing in between Tara and Englemann again. “Head that way so Giles can follow us to the school.”

The engine roared to life. “Could probably walk faster than Tweed’s car.” Faith didn’t say anything else as she sped through the parking lot, coming to an abrupt halt next to Giles’ battered Citroen.  Buffy watched as Faith and Willow jumped out of the idling Jeep and grabbed bags and books.

While the last of the supplies were packed into the back, Buffy tried to clarify the plan in her mind. The school shouldn’t be on anyone’s radar. None of them had been back, except for patrol, since graduation. They’d be safe there. But for how long? Could Ethan trace them? Even if he couldn’t, how were they going to beat his magic? Tara had insisted she wasn’t strong enough to fight him. Would Willow be able to help with that?

***

Buffy scowled so fiercely that Tara feared she’d unintentionally done something to anger the other girl. After a few seconds, though, she realized Buffy wasn’t actually looking at her. She was, in fact, staring _through_ Tara. “B-Buffy?”

Blinking, Buffy focused on Tara. “What?” She tilted her head. “Is something wrong?” Her expression sharpened.

“N-no.” Tara hurried to reassure Buffy. “I…”

Before she had a chance to explain, the rear door of the Jeep slammed closed. Faith and Willow returned to the front of the SUV, and Giles stuck his head through an open window. “We’re ready. Are you sure this is the best course of action, Buffy?” Then he seemed to realize there were new people in the vehicle. “Hello. Buffy?”

Obviously, Buffy hadn’t relayed the entire story of their escapades when she went inside. Tara watched her hold up a hand to stop any more questions. “I’m not going over this again, Giles. No questions now. Save them for later.” With a tight nod, Giles retracted his head and disappeared. “Let’s go, Faith.” Buffy sounded terse and tired.

 From Giles and his questions? Or from the situation? Tara wondered. Was this sort of thing normal for them? She shifted a little, giving Buffy more room on the crowded seat and gently stroking a hand over Buffy’s thigh where it pressed against her own.

The Jeep began moving again. Faith turned onto the street, constantly checking the mirrors. “Looks like we’re good, B. Nothing behind us but your mom and Giles.”

Tara did a little checking of her own. “I can’t feel Eth-than, either.” She pushed to the limits of her senses. There was nothing except the normal ambient energy around them. “When we g-get to the school, I’ll…” She’d what? Find a way to defeat a far more powerful magic user? One look at Buffy’s hopeful expression had her saying, “I’ll work with Willow. I’m sure there’s something we can do.”

“Thanks, Tara.” Buffy smiled and laid a hand over Tara’s. “Giles might have some suggestions, too. He isn’t big with the mojo these days, but he knows a lot.”

Tara wasn’t so sure about that. Not if Willow’s magical knowledge was the result of his tutoring. Keeping her thoughts to herself, she idly ran her thumb over the back of Buffy’s hand. There was enough time to worry about their magical situation when they reached the high school. After all, one of Giles’ books might have just the spell she was looking for. Tara nearly groaned at how much she was thinking like Willow. If she wasn’t careful, she’d forget all of her mother’s teaching.

“Almost there,” Faith announced, gently patting Willow’s thigh. The Jeep slowed and turned right into another parking lot. “Where to now, B?”

Buffy’s fingers twitched under Tara’s. “Ummm…”

While Buffy grappled with the question, Tara peered out the window at the dark, hulking former high school. There wasn’t much light since only a few remaining street lights were working. It was still enough to see the jagged edges of brick and mortar and the gaping holes and crumbling walls. No wonder Buffy had suggested this place; no one would ever think to look here.

“Try the cafeteria loading dock.” Buffy pulled away and sat up. “It’s in the back, and I think we might even be able to pull both cars inside. It’s not like we have to worry about blocking the refrigerators or anything.”

Seconds later, Faith pulled up next to an angled ramp bracketed by high concrete walls. The roar of the engine echoed loudly. “You want to do the honors, B?” She waved a hand at the metal retracting door illuminated by the Jeep’s headlights.

“Why not? I’ve already blown up the rest of the school. A little B&E won’t be a big problem.” Buffy smiled and tilted her head and winked at Tara. “Give me a hand?”

Some of Buffy’s seemingly misplaced humor infected Tara. “You k-keep forg-getting, Buffy,” she said softly, already reaching for the door handle. “We broke into a m-military base tonight. A sc-school is no big deal.” Giggling at Buffy’s slack-jawed expression, Tara clambered out of the Jeep and into the sepia-toned glare of Giles’ car’s headlights.

“I’m going to have to keep an eye on you,” Buffy muttered. “You’re getting mouthy; too much time with Faith. That’s what it is.” She affectionately poked Tara’s shoulder as she stepped around. When she spoke again, her voice was marginally louder. “Give me a minute to get the door up, Giles, and then drive inside.”

An indistinct question emerged from the tiny car.

It was loud enough for Buffy, apparently. “Giles, there aren’t any creepy ladies with hairnets in the kitchen anymore. We’re here to hide, remember?” she snapped, hands planted firmly on her hips.

Giles’ “Yes; sorry,” was clear and chagrined. The battered Citroen crept around the Jeep and stopped at the base of the loading ramp.

“Be right back.” Buffy waved (Tara assumed at her) and trotted past the two vehicles.

Despite Buffy’s jump from the bar window and her fight with the soldiers on campus, Tara still watched in amazement as Buffy gripped the padlock on the dock’s overhead door. Buffy’s muscles rippled for an instant while Tara held her breath. Air exploded from her lungs in time with the sound of rending metal. Seconds later, the door slid up, revealing the dark, cavernous interior of the former schools’ kitchen.

Now Buffy’s waving hand ushered Giles inside. The car struggled with the incline, its engine roaring and sputtering. With the Jeep gently pushing from behind, it did, however, finally manage the climb. Both vehicles disappeared into the gloom at the top of the ramp.

Buffy trotted for the Jeep. “Let’s get the supplies out. We need to find a good spot to camp out and I promised Giles I’d explain everything. If I don’t start talking soon, he’ll turn into Question Man.” She met Tara’s eyes with a wry smile. “And we so don’t want that.”

Nodding, Tara opened the rear door as Faith and Willow climbed out of the suddenly quiet SUV. “Me and Red’ll take the Brain Trust into the cafeteria.”

“Yeah,” Willow agreed. “If they get too mouthy, I’ll have Faith have tie them up. Or we could stuff them in one of those big freezers. I bet those are empty.”

At least she hadn’t suggested something magical, Tara thought with an internal eye roll. Taking a few bags from Buffy, she walked through the large, darkened kitchen.

Joyce waited for her. “I found a couple of serving carts, honey. Dump the bags there and Rupert and I can move them wherever the girls decide to set up the research party.” She reached for the bags on Tara’s arms, though, removing them without waiting for Tara to move past.

“Thanks, Mom.” Buffy had loaded herself with the rest of the food bags, and she groaned faintly as she dumped them onto the cart. “I don’t know where’s the best place for the research. Will’s going to need her computer – and that means electricity and a phone line.”

Was she serious? The school was a shell. “Um…” Tara looked at Joyce for help. Had they made a mistake in coming here?

“Honey,” Joyce said, laying a hand on Buffy’s arm. “You keep exaggerating your exploits. Only the main building was destroyed at graduation. The rest of the school wasn’t badly damaged. I read in the paper last week that construction crews have been clearing away debris and starting renovations on the other buildings. I’m sure those areas still have everything you and Willow need.”

Thank the Goddess. Tara relaxed as Buffy nodded. “I’ll take Faith. The auditorium might work, and there was a couch up in the lighting booth that used to be popular.” Her grin caught Tara off guard. “You know, in case you older people need naps or whatever.”

Before Joyce could reply, Giles walked up and set down an armload of books. “I will certainly keep that in mind, Buffy. After all, I have become quite accustomed to regular sleep since the end of my tenure here.” There was a bite to his words, despite the slight twitch to his lips. “However, before I elect to spend time on that infamous couch, perhaps we could locate the classroom or office being used by the construction foreman? I did not notice a construction trailer in the parking lot. I daresay any business office – even one located in a partially destroyed high school – would have not only electricity but all the modern conveniences. I suggest you begin your search in the science wing, as it is the farthest point from the library.”

“I’m ready when you are, B.” Faith said. She lounged against a steel counter, one arm around Willow’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s track down this office or whatever. I got Walsh and the Colonel tied up in the other room.” One hand indicated a set of double doors leading, Tara thought, to the main part of the cafeteria. “The rest of the gang can keep ‘em company.”

Tara shouldn’t have been surprised by the immediate exodus Faith’s suggestion started. Somehow, though, she was. The kitchen had been dimly lit by starlight and the distant glow of streetlights from the school parking lot. However, Giles paused to lower the loading dock door, cutting off all outside illumination. Her hands rose in front of her as Tara prayed she wouldn’t run into anything. Her world narrowed to the sound of shuffling feet and quiet breathing from the rest of the unseen group – until a hand gently touched her back.

“Don’t worry. Faith and I can see fine,” Buffy whispered, her breath warm where it puffed against Tara’s neck and ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you; I promise.”


	36. Chapter 36

Tara shivered as Buffy’s breath whispered softly across her neck. “Th-thanks,” she mumbled back, warmed by the soft promise. Of course, Tara had no intention of holding Buffy to her vow. It would be too easy to rely on Buffy’s obvious strength and sense of duty. She swore (to herself, at least) to be a fully participating member of the gang. Unfortunately for Tara’s inner grandstanding, she had to lean on Buffy as they dodged counters, carts, tables, and a myriad of overturned chairs in the kitchen and cafeteria.

As they moved into the large eating area, the gloom lightened again. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in a glimmer of starlight and someone, probably Willow, had located and lit a handful of votive cups. In the flickering light, Tara saw Professor Walsh and Colonel Englemann bound to a pair of chairs with several of the empty plastic grocery bags from the Jeep.

Neither captive looked happy or particularly comfortable.

"Nice, Faith.” Buffy steered Tara to an adjacent table and pulled out a chair. “I bet Walmart never thought those bags would be used for anything but hauling food and stuff.”

Sitting down, Tara smiled up at Buffy as Faith preened at the praise. “Thank you,” she said again. To make sure she got her very real gratitude across, Tara squeezed Buffy’s hand for a second before releasing it. “W-Willow and I can work with Mr. Giles wh-while you and Faith are gone. Maybe we can find…find something.” She hated to be vague; however, Tara still wasn’t sure what they could do against Ethan.

Her confidence level shot up when Buffy returned her smile. “I’m sure you and Will’ll have it all figured out.” She turned away and waved at Walsh. “Don’t give the gang too much trouble, Professor. Giles isn’t always the uptight British guy he seems. You wouldn’t want to make him angry.” Ignoring Giles’ sputter and Willow’s giggle, Buffy trotted toward the back of the cafeteria. “Let’s hit the road, Faith. I’d like to get Will set up and hunting answers.”

They melted into the darkness in seconds, the only clue to their whereabouts the faint swish of the doors as they left the room.

“Did you have a spell in mind, Tara?” Willow didn’t wait more than a minute before claiming the seat next to Tara’s. “How do we keep Ethan from finding us?”

That wasn’t really their biggest problem. Tara stifled a sigh and gripped her hands together nervously. “I d-don’t think we can k-keep him fr-from finding us, Willow. I th-think we should focus on wh-what to do when he does.” Hoping that Giles could provide more experience – and a buffer to Willow’s boundless enthusiasm – she looked at Giles. “Mr. Giles, can you t-tell us more about Ethan?”

Giles’ grimace was amusing. His words were not. “I’m afraid my knowledge of Ethan Rayne is many years old. And, given his actions earlier today with Buffy, I am not at all certain I have anything relevant to offer.”

“It’s more than we have now, Giles.” Willow scooted closer. “The thing with Buffy is so the tip of the magical iceberg. We found out he’s working with Walsh on some kind of scientific experiment on demons and vampires.”

“What?” Voice rising, Giles gripped the back of an empty chair. Then, visibly pulling himself together, he said, “Forgive me. We had already determined he had allies for this project. I simply did not expect he would be part of anything so… well, so fantastical. Ethan has tended toward plots based on mischief and disaster.”

His quiet diatribe was interrupted by a hastily smothered snort, and they all spun to stare at Professor Walsh. She glared back, apparently not at all intimidated by her current circumstances.

For a long moment, no one spoke. “I don’t think she agrees with you, Giles.” Willow wrinkled her nose. “Not surprising, really. Buffy always said Walsh was an egomaniac. Well, she really called her a power-crazy bitch, but I think egomaniac is closer.”

Walsh’s face flushed bright red and Tara thought she might explode.

“You should see the information I printed out at the underground lab we found tonight,” Willow continued. “It’s like some freaky science fiction movie.”

“Why don’t you sh-show us what you have, Wil-low?” Tara hated to say anything. She understood magic, not science. Her focus was on Ethan. Still, it was possible Ethan and the research was connected somehow. “What were th-they building?”

Brandishing another plastic bag, Willow announced, “A hybrid. These are the blueprints and notes.”

Giles reached across the table and took the bag. “What sort of hybrid, Willow? Demon and vampire? For what purpose?” He pulled all of the paper Willow had printed out and set it on the table.

“I didn’t get a chance to look through all of it. The goon squad showed up,” Willow complained.

“Th-then we need to see wh-what you missed.” It sounded harsher than Tara intended, but Willow nodded in agreement. “Should we div-vide the material?” she asked; although, she wasn’t sure she’d recognize anything important in the diagrams and pages upon pages of printed documents.

Sitting down, Giles made the decision for them. “I’ll start here.” He took the first inch of paper from the top and then shoved the remaining stack at Willow.

“Whoo hoo. Research.” Grinning in apparent happiness, Willow grabbed her own pile. “I miss the smell of the books, though. And the research tables. These aren’t the same, you know? No crinkly pages and spidery script to read.”

With far less enthusiasm, Tara reached for the remaining printouts and bit back a sigh. Research. Only a couple of days ago, her biggest problem had been finding out Buffy was her roommate.

***

Buffy followed Faith out of the cafeteria. It wasn’t like she remembered. The gleaming hallways were covered in a fine layer of dust littered with broken pieces of concrete, linoleum, and metal. Lockers still lines the walls; however, many of those listed drunkenly and doors hung open at odd angles.

“Where we headed, B?” Faith’s question jarred Buffy out of her examination of the hall.

“The science wing.” Moving faster, Buffy passed Faith and took the lead. “Mom’s probably right about it being the best place to work. It’s all the way at the back, and I doubt even the big bomb did more than crack a few windows.” She forced a smile and a wink. Being back was harder than she’d thought. It took effort not to stop and stare into classrooms – or head for the heart of all her high school memories. The library would have to wait.

They walked in silence all the way through the economics hallway. Then Faith caught up with Buffy. “What’s up with you and T?”

Excellent. This was exactly what Buffy did _not_ want to talk about right now. “What do you mean?” she asked, stalling for time. For answers. The tactic didn’t work. Faith merely raised an eyebrow and grinned, dimples peeking out. Buffy’s face heated but she remained stubbornly silent.

“Come on, B. First you tell Willow that T hates you ‘cause you were a bitch in LA.” Faith’s voice echoed oddly in the unnaturally quiet hallways. “I ain’t even gonna mention a little naked tag at your mom’s place.”

No. Faith wasn’t going to mention Buffy’s turn as the Cave Slayer. Nope. Buffy glowered at Faith and stomped along beside her.

“Now you’re all holding hands and ‘Don’t worry. I won’t let anything hurt you’,” Faith continued.

Slayer hearing sucked. “Shut up!” Buffy snapped before she could control the words. “Just shut up!” Faith made everything sound sordid and dirty. It wasn’t like that. They hadn’t been holding hands; they’d been…reassuring each other.

Faith raised her hands in a surrender Buffy knew was false. “You got something you wanna tell me? Come right on _out_ and say it.” Her husky chuckle was the final straw.

Diving across the short space between them, Buffy gripped Faith by the shirt collar and slammed her into the wall. “I said shut up!” Her breath came in harsh pants. “Tara is a friend, I hope. A friend. For some reason I can’t begin to understand, she’s willing to accept my apology and give me a second chance. If I _ever_ hear you hint, even a little, that there’s more to it than that, I’ll do more than kick your ass.”

Dust motes danced in the dim light around them. Buffy felt her muscles tremble with strain as she glared at Faith. Faith glared back. “Whatever,” she finally mumbled.

“What did you say?” Buffy wasn’t letting Faith off so easily. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I said OK.” Faith raised her arms over her head and jammed her elbows down on Buffy’s wrists, breaking Buffy’s hold. “Fucking head case.” Back stiff, she strode away without another word.

The disgruntled silence lasted for the rest of their journey. Buffy spent the time with her senses on alert while her eyes took in what was left of Sunnydale High School. Her mother had been right. Her path of destruction on graduation day hadn’t been total. Or even widespread. As she followed Faith outside into the rear quad, the signs of the fight faded. Nothing remained of the rows of chairs, the podium, or the maroon banner.

Those memories lived in Buffy.

_“Am I late? To the fight?” Willow grinned manically as she ducked into the row next to Buffy and straightened her mortar board. Before the tassel swung from the correct side, though, another voice rose above the crowd._

_“Well, what a day this is. A special day,” Mayor Wilkins announced. Buffy glanced at him and her throat closed on a gasp. His smile was evil._

Buffy’s steps slowed. Stomach churning, she took a deep breath. The Mayor was dead. That battle was over. A new evil lurked outside the dubious shelter of this campus. “Let’s pick up the pace,” she announced and suited action to words. Jogging through the breezeway, Buffy wrenched open the door to the Science Building. It didn’t budge.

“Easy there, General B. You really think the construction guys’re gonna leave the door wide open? I’m guessing they’ve got all kinds of stuff inside they don’t want stolen.” Faith brushed Buffy aside and shoved more gently at the door. “Dead bolt. Easy to break if we don’t care about leaving a trail. Anybody’ll spot the break in, though.”

“What are the other options?” Buffy asked. This was Faith’s area of expertise.

Shoving both hands into her pockets, Faith searched for something. “Only other plan is to pick it. A credit card always works on TV.” Her hands re-emerged – empty. “Got your wallet on ya’?” Faith didn’t wait for a response, perhaps sensing how close Buffy was to exploding. “Hang here a sec. Maybe I can get in one of the windows. Locks on those are cake to pop.”

Buffy concentrated on unclenching her jaws after Faith sprinted away. She counted to ten four times before she was back in control – with only a lingering ache along her molars. Spinning to face the quad, she peered into the darkness. There was no sign of Faith. Buffy could feel her; Faith hadn’t left. Absently rubbing her arms against the growing chill, she ignored the first sluggish pull of exhaustion. Sleep took a distant second to saving the world.

A dull click interrupted Buffy’s stifled yawn. “We’re in, B. And we hit the motherlode. Two rooms with phones, computers, even a TV. Let’s grab the gang and finish this shit. Me and Red were supposed to have a night on the town before you hit the bottle. We get done fast enough, might be able to hit the Bronze for some slow dancin’,” Faith said with a suggestive leer.


	37. Chapter 37

If only they could get done in time for a little fun. Buffy had no real hope for that, however. “You get the gang. I want to take a look around the perimeter. We need time for research, and that could be hard if there are more of Walsh’s friends running around.”

“Got it.” Faith took a step toward the main building and paused. “You sure you don’t wanna wait? Red’d kill me if anything happened to you.” There was worry in her expression and she watched Buffy closely. “It won’t take me ten minutes, B. Wait here.”

Buffy smiled. Faith didn’t fool her. Willow was only _part_ of the reason Faith was worried. Not wanting to say something to put Faith on the defensive, though, she merely shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to take look. If I see or hear anything, I’ll come back for you.” Before Faith could protest more, Buffy took off at a dead run. She was around the science wing in seconds.

Hugging the back wall, she huddled in the bushes and waited for her heart and breathing to smooth out. One breath. Two. Finally, Buffy could hear past her pounding heart. Faith hadn’t followed, and nothing moved in the darkness beyond the shrubbery. It wasn’t enough to keep Buffy from extending her senses and moving cautiously into the open. They’d rushed into things (OK, _she’d_ rushed into things) on the UCS campus. She didn’t want to make that mistake twice in one day.

Starting with the sports fields, Buffy loped quietly through the night. A few vampires blipped on her radar. She paused, considering. Walsh had been experimenting on vampires. Were the ones hiding in the shadows _her_ handiwork, or the run of the mill evil Buffy fought nightly? Either way, they were a threat; however, having the added threat of Walsh’s pet monsters on the horizon gave Buffy a chill a normal vampire didn’t.

Stay or go find them?

Buffy hesitated, listening to her Slayer senses. The signatures were faint and far away. Further, the blips were individual and not clumped together. If they _were_ working for Walsh, she didn’t have to worry about them yet. Making a mental promise to let Giles know about what she’d felt, Buffy continued her sweep of the school grounds. Nothing more than a stray dog and a homeless man sleeping under the bleachers interrupted her patrol.  Buffy stuffed the last ten dollars in her pocket into the old man’s hand and told him to leave. It wasn’t enough for a hotel room. She hoped it was enough to keep him busy at the liquor store until daybreak.

***

“Willow, have a look at this.” Giles hadn’t been reading for more than five minutes when he suddenly shoved the paperwork in his hands across the table. “I pray I have misunderstood the notations…”

Feeling her skin crawl with a chill of fear, Tara glanced up and watched Willow frown as she peered at the pages in question. “I guess it depends on what you understood, Giles. I mean, I’m pretty sure this is the outline of the hybrid we saw at the lab. Except…” She broke off and impatiently skipped to the next page.

“Except?” Tara asked. Goddess, what now? Willow’s eyes had widened and the dusting of freckles across her nose seemed to glow. “What is it?”

A hand dropped gently onto Tara’s shoulder. “Rule number two for Scooby life, Tara,” Joyce murmured with a sympathetic smile. “You can’t rush genius – or Rupert when he’s latched onto a juicy fact. You can roll your eyes, fidget, and think about screaming. If you want the information, though, you have to sit back and wait.”

“Wait?” Really? Tara realized Joyce had a point about wanting to scream. Unfortunately, she’d left out the part about wanting to bang Giles’ and Willow’s heads together – or her own head on the table.

“Trust me, and them, honey. They usually get it right. Sometimes, though, it takes a few minutes for them to process what they’ve found into something the rest of us can understand.” Dragging a chair from another table, Joyce sat down and held out a bag of microwave popcorn. “If I know Buffy and Faith, they’ll be starving when they come back.  I made one bag for us before they get here and it’s all gone.”

Tara had just taken a handful of popcorn when Willow’s head shot up. “Ohmygosh!” The pages rustled as she turned and brandished them at Professor Walsh. “You’re evil!” Words seemed to fail her for a second as her mouth opened and closed with no sound. “Walsh wasn’t just planning to make some kind of demon/human killing machine. Her _first_ experiment was on Ethan Rayne! Look at this…”

Willow spread the papers Giles had returned out on the table. “At first, I thought this was a diagram of the thing on the exam table at the lab. But if you look at the notes and all the marked pieces, you can see all the creepy demon parts they’ve added to the host. There are actually _two different_ subjects, though. The one you were looking at in the report, Giles, is the one we saw at the lab. The second diagram is a few pages back. It only has one modification.” She pointed at the head of the human-shaped illustration. “The note here indicates that they used a behavior modification chip of some kind. Right under that fun fact, it identifies the host as Ethan Rayne.”

“Behavior modification? Bloody hell.” Ripping his glasses off, Giles tossed them sharply onto the table. “No wonder Ethan’s actions have made no sense. He was not acting under his own control. That…That _woman_ ,” Tara had no doubt Giles meant Professor Walsh from the glare he sent her way. “That woman has turned him into her private, magically-endowed puppet.”

“Could be worse,” Faith’s voice announced suddenly out of the darkness. A second later, she strode up to the table. “Walsh coulda got to Buffy before you found the info, Red. Then there’d be Franken-Ethan and his Buffy bride to worry about.”

Cold, ephemeral hands clutched Tara’s throat. “What?” she choked out.

“Thought you knew, T. You, too, Red,” Faith continued. She looked back and forth between them, as if judging the sincerity of their confusion. “Huh. Me and Buffy heard Walsh and the Colonel talking about it before we caught ‘em. Walsh told B she was a ‘host’ or some shit.”

“Then I, for one, am doubly glad you girls did not listen to my request for a plan before heading to campus.” Giles stood and looked around the room. “Where is Buffy? Is everything alright?”

Faith shrugged and shoved her hands in her pockets, appearing completely unconcerned. “Yeah. B’s scoutin’ things out and she didn’t want my help. We found a good place for Will to do her thing, though. Want me to drag the Duo down the hall while you follow?”As if suddenly bored by the conversation, she sniffed and turned to Joyce. “You got more of that popcorn, Mrs. S? I’m starving. B dragged me out of the apartment before I was done eating.”

Tara watched Joyce stand and hand her microwave popcorn bag to Faith. “Of course, honey. I’ve got more in the kitchen. It’s all ready to be wheeled to the new research center. Tara can help me with it.” The words, soft and still commanding, drove Tara out of her chair instantly. “We’ll be right back.”

Faith’s “OK,” followed them through the candle-lit gloom back into the kitchen.

“How are you holding up?” Joyce didn’t mince words as she hurriedly took the handle of a rolling cart and swung it toward the cafeteria.

“Um…” Tara hesitated, not sure _how_ she was doing in the face of the new facts. “O-OK, I guess.” Shooting a pained smile at Joyce, she tried again. “Well, th-there is that n-need to scr-scream you mentioned. And run-ning sounds good, t-too.”

A soft chuckle answered her. “Then you’re in good company. I feel like that every time Buffy goes out on patrol or we have another one of the end-of-the-world research sessions.” Joyce’s eyes were warm and understanding as she paused for a moment. “Honey, I know this is a lot to take in on your first full weekend as a Scooby. But honestly? It never really slows down. If it all gets too much, come talk to me, please.”

Tara didn’t know what to say, didn’t even know if she _could_ say anything around the burning knot in her throat. “Thanks,” she got out in a choked whisper. “I will, I promise.”

“Good; you don’t want me to hunt you down.” With a wink, Joyce wheeled the cart through the doors and into the cafeteria. “OK, gang. The cooking staff is ready. Let’s get the show on the road so Willow can tell us how to take care of Ethan.”

Glancing up, Tara caught Willow’s determined nod. So this was the normal Scooby plan. Let Willow run wild with books and magic. Not this time. At least, not with the magic. Tara trotted alongside Joyce as they followed Faith and their two captives into the hallway.

“Watch your step,” Faith warned. “It’s pretty bad in here; all kinds of crap on the floor.” Her hand shot out before she finished her sentence, catching Professor Walsh as she stumbled over a large piece of loose tile. “See what I mean?”

“Stop complaining,” Willow scolded. “C4 does a lot of damage, and it isn’t like anyone cared enough to clean up. I mean, it’s taken a year for the city to even start the renovations. This place won’t be ready for new students for a long time unless they use those horrible temporary classrooms.”

Instead of replying, Faith turned her head and grinned at Willow. A second later, her tongue stuck out, pointed at her girlfriend.

Laugh, don’t cry. Tara was beginning to understand at least that part of the Scooby Credo. “D-didn’t your moth-ther tell you not to do that? Your f-face mi-might freeze,” she warned Faith with a wink.

She should have known better. Faith’s grin widened until it looked very much like a smirk. “Well, T, Red ain’t gonna complain if all she’s got is my tongue.”

Tara’s face sizzled as she stared at Faith. She hadn’t…Faith…Her thoughts raced around, crashing into each other. Then she saw the wicked twinkle in Faith’s eyes. “Oh! You are an b-bad, bad p-person.” Narrowing her own eyes, she threatened, “I c-can turn you into a fr-frog!”

“Nah. You’re the good witch, T. Even I know that. ‘Sides, Will’s afraid of frogs. You wouldn’t wanna punish her, too, right?” Faith seemed completely unfazed by the thought of Tara’s magic. She flinched, however, when Joyce cleared her throat.

“I don’t mind the occasional off-color joke, Faith,” Joyce said quietly. “ _That_ kind of comment is out of line, however.”

Eyes dropping to the floor, Faith nodded. “Got it. Sorry, Mrs. S.” Then, barely glancing up, she added in a mumble, “Didn’t mean nothing, T. Just havin’ some fun.” Her heavy boots made it hard to tell if she was stomping her feet or merely walking normally. The thud of her footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Tara might have responded to the apology if she hadn’t noticed Professor Walsh watching them with avid interest. She stared at the women until Walsh grimaced and turned her attention away. “Willow?” Tara asked softly. “I kn-know we have the doc-cuments. Can you use th-them? D-Do you think they have ev-everyth-thing we need?” If Ethan had a chip in his head, did that mean they could turn him off and not worry about defeating him magically?

“Only in my dreams.” Willow moved closer as she continued. “I have handwritten notes and test results. So far. We didn’t exactly make a dent in the paperwork. Once I get set up in the office, I’ll hack back into the Professor’s system. If there’s a way to turn Ethan off, I’ll find it,” she announced vehemently.

Maybe. Maybe not. Willow appeared to be the brain behind the entire Scooby operation, not the adults. Joyce seemed comfortable as the Head Cook and Team Mom. Giles? Tara hadn’t fully identified his role. The voice of caution or devil’s advocate seemed the best options. “W-We can talk about that.” Smiling reassuringly at Willow, Tara tried to show they were a team. That Willow didn’t have to do it all alone.

Everyone stopped talking then. They travelled the rest of the hallway, lost in thought. Tara blindly followed the group ahead of her until Faith (and Professor Walsh) stopped. Nearly running into the professor, she realized they were outside.

“This is it, kiddies. The new Scooby Center. Make sure to stay together until ya’ find a seat.” Faith’s grin was invisible, thanks to the poor lighting. Tara could _hear_ it, though. Opening a set of double doors, Faith ushered them inside another, less dilapidated, part of the building.


	38. Chapter 38

Even though several sections of the walls were mere sheetrock, it was clear this was the heart of the renovations. Each of the rooms Tara had passed was clear of trash and the outward signs of a bomb blast. The wavering candlelight from the votives Giles and Willow carried illuminated large buckets of paint and piles of drywall.

“Oh, wow!” Willow’s exclamation was shockingly loud. “This so beats the old library.” She disappeared into another room, taking her tiny circle of light with her. “Laptop, phone, all-in-one. Did you know you can fax, copy, scan _and_ print with just one machine?

Something, maybe the faint stiffening of Giles’ body, alerted Tara. She glanced at him and caught his grimace as they all filed into the room and began unloading their supplies. “Willow, I distinctly remember we had each of those things in the library. And, I might add, the further resources provided by my vast collection of materials on the supernatural.”

Willow didn’t immediately respond. She was hurriedly disconnecting the laptop from several cords and cables on the desk and storing it in a drawer. “Giles, there was no laptop. You allowed one – _one_ – computer, and it was so old it was made out of stone.” Raising her head, she grinned at him, teeth glimmering in the candlelight. “And…did you even know what an all-in-one was before I explained it?”

From the lack of response (and Giles’ increasingly fierce glower), Tara thought she knew the answer. “W-Willow?” Despite enjoying the banter and the continued glimpse into Scooby life, Tara decided she should try to get them all back on track. “C-Can you see if the Profes-sor left information about E-Ethan in her files? If not…” Well, if not, things would definitely get a lot more frightening.

“Why don’t we just ask Walsh?” Faith winked when Tara looked at her in confusion. “Don’t get me wrong, watching Red do her thing is hot, but we had plans for tonight. Maybe we ain’t gotta waste time. If the info’s there, Walsh can tell us where to find it – or just give us what we need to know.”

“Do you plan to threaten me again?” Professor Walsh joined the conversation with a disdainful laugh.

Only Faith seemed prepared to say anything. “Nah. Threats don’t do much good, ya’ know?” Stepping closer to Walsh, she smiled. “I’m all about gettin’ the job done.”

That smile… Tara shivered. If demons saw that smile when they encountered Faith, a stake was probably the least of their worries.

“You’re a Slayer. You can’t hurt a human.” Apparently, Walsh wasn’t completely convinced of her own argument; she leaned as far away from Faith as the bonds holding her to the chair would allow. “If you want information, you’ll have to get it yourself.”

“Kinda what I’m planning.” Faith’s smile hadn’t diminished. “See, all that crap about not hurting humans? That works for Buffy. I’m not so up on the rules and sometimes…” One of her hands dropped to Walsh’s shoulder. “Sometimes shit happens.”

Tara was appalled at Faith’s not-so-veiled threats _and_ at the complete lack of reaction from the rest of the gang. “Faith,” she said – at exactly the same time as Willow. Breaking off, she waited. If anyone could keep this from happening, it was Willow. Right?

Personal laptop now hooked up, Willow hunched industriously over the keyboard. “Stop playing with the professor. I may have fantasized about turning you loose on her after a few of her lectures, but that doesn’t mean I want you to pull her arms off.” She frowned and typed for a minute. “We’ll save that for later if I can’t find what we need.”

“Red,” Faith protested, “why waste time? Walsh knows what we need to take Ethan down.” Tara noticed her hand was still on Walsh’s shoulder and she hadn’t moved away from the professor.

“Oh, do sit down, Faith.” Exchanging one stack of paperwork for another, Giles glared across the room. “There is real work to be done, and no matter how much you like to play the rebel, we simply do not have the time. Come make yourself useful and help Tara and I look for answers.”

Oops. Tara jumped nearly as much as Faith at the bite in his tone. Busy watching the tableau, Tara hadn’t been doing anything useful, either. Recalled to duty, however, she quickly found a chair (and more paperwork) and began to read.  The information hadn’t changed. It was technical and boring. It also didn’t help Tara formulate a plan to beat Ethan.

She kept reading, though.

They really were running out of time. She couldn’t feel Ethan right now. Tara didn’t expect that to last. With his power, Ethan would find them quickly, and somehow they had to be ready. “W-Willow, have you found anyth-thing about the chip?” Technology certainly sounded like a better solution than a magical showdown.

“Not yet. The stuff I printed was only research notes. I’m going deeper this time.” Willow raised her head, the light from the screen washing her features in blue.

“I don’t think you got to look at anything the Colonel wrote down,” Buffy said. Tara turned to see her stride into the room. “He wasn’t in on Walsh’s big plan to make me a Buffybot.”

The sound of Willow typing cut off abruptly. “What?”

“I thought I told you. Sorry.” Tara smiled at Buffy’s completely overdone hangdog expression. “It’s been a busy night, Will. I must have forgotten.”

***

Keeping her “Sorry Face” on until she saw Willow sigh and shake her head, Buffy continued into the room and dropped into a chair next to Tara. “When I was eavesdropping on Walsh back at the lab, she told him she had a source bringing her new host to the party. Me. The Colonel looked like she’d stolen his favorite uniform.”

“The bad guys always keep secrets,” Faith mumbled around a mouthful of food. Popcorn, Buffy realized when she spotted the bag sitting next to Faith on the couch across the room. “You’d know that, B, if you read more comic books.”

The hint of a smirk on Faith’s face clued Buffy in. Faith was waiting. Waiting for Buffy to go off on cartoons and not get back to business.

Buffy decided to break the mold rather than explode at Faith’s needling like she usually did. Settling back in the chair, she idly reached out and picked up some of the computer printouts covering the surface. “Yeah, you might be right. What’s the comic of the week?” Racking her brain, Buffy tried to remember what Faith watched. “Batman?”

It was the right choice. Faith’s eyes widened and her smirk disappeared. “Uh, yeah. Me and X-man…” She caught herself. Clearing her throat, Faith grabbed more popcorn from the bag before offering the snack to Buffy. “Anyway, all them secrets make the bad guys turn on each other.”

“How about it, Colonel?” Buffy didn’t actually believe he’d tell them anything. Still, Faith’s idea had merit, and any information was good.

True to form, though, Englemann merely glared at her.

Maybe he’d change his mind when Ethan showed up and started tossing fireballs or lightning bolts. Buffy sighed. “Guess the comic book theory doesn’t work so well in real life, Faith. Too bad. That leaves us with Willow’s printouts and Tara’s magic.” Pretending not to see Tara’s blush – or her terrified expression – she went on. “What’s the what with Ethan, Will? Can you shut him off?”

“I should be able to,” Willow said, raising Buffy’s hopes. Then, with a grimace, she cruelly smashed them. “If I could find a way into the chip’s programming. I can’t. I can’t even _find_ the program. It’s not in any of the research files on the project. I’ve got notes on demon experiments and the guy on the exam table. I even figured out why Ethan spiked all that beer. I just can’t do anything to keep him from coming after us!”

The note of despair in Willow’s voice reminded Buffy of other research sessions, most notably the ones leading to graduation. Perfect. Once again, they had to find a way to save the world with no clue how.

“Mr. G-Giles, why don’t you and I talk ab-about Ethan and let Wil-Willow work on the computer?” Tara interrupted Buffy’s thoughts. “You know him b-better than anyone…”

Giles was going to object. He always avoided magical discussions. Buffy made sure that wasn’t an option this time. “Good plan, Tara. You and Giles get with the magic talk. Will’ll be Computer Girl. Me and Faith will start work on getting ready for a fight.” A soft cough alerted Buffy she’d left one member of the team off the roster. “And Mom can keep an eye on the Professor and Englemann.”

Hopping up, Buffy didn’t give anyone a chance to object. Tara’s comment about Ethan had reminded her that they were on borrowed time. They needed a plan. More than one, if Tara was right about not being able to beat Ethan magically.

“What are you thinkin’, B?” Faith, minus the now-empty popcorn bag, joined Buffy at the table.

“Grab some weapons.” Buffy took her own words to heart and grabbed the duffel bag off the rolling cart. “It’s not just Ethan we have to worry about. Riley and his goons are out there, too. We can’t assume Ethan’s going to show up alone when he finds us. Tara and Will have to be ready with the magic. We’ll have to be ready for the gun-toting commandos.

Faith gave Buffy a long look. “You think so?” Her usual cocky smile was absent. “We got lucky on campus, B. They show up again, it ain’t gonna be so simple.”

“I know.” Or Buffy thought she did. Guns were a new threat, but she watched a lot of television. “That’s why we’re headed for the other room for a Slayer Strategy Session. If we stay here, we’ll make Giles and Willow mad.”

Throat clearing rang out behind them. “Excuse me?” Willow asked pointedly.

“Just like that,” Buffy announced with a sunny smile and a wave for her friend – who tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin. “We’ll be back, guys. Yell if the Professor gets too chatty.” Looping the duffel over her shoulder for the second time that night, Buffy strode from the room with Faith hard on her heels.

The second construction office was smaller. That wasn’t a problem. Bypassing the desk, Buffy unloaded her gear by the small table tucked into a corner next to a whiteboard. “Let’s hear it, Faith.” Not willing to take the lead in the discussion, Buffy shifted the burden of command. “I have zero experience with this type of thing. Demons, vampires, and the odd crazy co-ed, yes. Soldiers, no.”

“You got about as much as me, B. The only guns I ever dealt with belonged to the gangs in Southie,” Faith said quietly. “And I didn’t mess with ‘em.” She hovered near the table before walking to the whiteboard and picking up the eraser. “Shoulda called Xan. He’s the soldier guy.”

Warmth crawled up Buffy’s cheeks. “Yeah, I guess.” Calling Xander hadn’t even crossed Buffy’s mind. Xander hadn’t been around a lot since graduation. The blush grew hotter. And she hadn’t gone out of her way to visit him, either.  If they managed to get out of this fight alive, she’d have to do something about that if she wanted to keep Xander’s friendship. “It’s too late now. Riley probably has someone watching Xan’s parents’ place. We’ll have to figure this out on our own.”

Faith nodded and began erasing the writing on the board. “First thing, then, is how’re we gonna keep an eye out for Walsh’s goons? And what are we gonna do when they get here?”

Good questions. Staring at the clean board, Buffy struggled to find good answers. “We could patrol. Except…I’m sure they won’t all come in one group. If we miss one, they’d be all over the rest of the gang.” She fell silent for a minute. Snyder had been a crazy control freak. And he’d seemed to know everything that happened at the school, no matter when or where it took place. “We need to take a field trip, Faith.”

“Can’t,” Faith said immediately. “Red don’t like it when I leave her behind, and we ain’t got any picnic food.”

Buffy stiffened before she glimpsed Faith’s smirk. “Bitch.” Taking a couple of stakes and daggers from the duffel bag, she stood. “I think I know how we can keep an eye on things as long as the main office didn’t go boom with the rest of the school.”


	39. Chapter 39

“Lead the way then, B. I got your back.” Faith tossed the eraser onto the small table and stretched. “But we gotta hurry. Red’s feeling out of her league, and I ain’t good with leavin’ her with all the work.”

Buffy’s eyes threatened to pop out of her head. Really? Faith didn’t like Willow doing all the work? They _always_ did that. Slayers and research mixed badly. Biting back a comment, though, she merely dug a couple more daggers from the duffel bag and slipped them under her belt. “Let’s go.” Without offering an explanation, Buffy trotted out of the room and outside.

The night was still dark. Still quiet. For just an instant, Buffy longed for the old days when there had been something happening on campus at all hours. The feeling faded when they reentered the main building, replaced with a crawling sense of urgency and a need for caution. “I think Snyder may have had cameras installed,” she told Faith as they hurried through the pitch-black hallways. “If he _did_ …”

“We can use ‘em to spot Walsh’s goons,” Faith finished. “Nice, B.”

Whether the compliment was for Buffy’s brilliance or Snyder’s sneakiness, Buffy wasn’t sure. She felt a brief surge of confidence from just the slim chance Faith appreciated her idea. “We have to pray the explosion didn’t damage the equipment, though. Will’s a whiz with the computer; I’ve never seen her rebuild a surveillance network.” Of course, if they had enough time, Willow could probably figure it out.

“Fuck, no. You better do more than pray, B. Red’s a lost cause with wires and shit. She tried to fix the toaster one day.” Faith chuckled.  “Remember them towels Mrs. S gave us for the apartment?”

Actually, Buffy had picked them out. It had taken her weeks to find something cute that hadn’t been too girly for an apartment Faith would be sharing. “Yeah,” she said, sure the punch line of the story wasn’t going to be funny.

“Came home from patrol to see flames almost to the ceiling. Bet your mom didn’t know how good them things burned.” Faith shook her head. “I ain’t never lettin’ Red near the electrical stuff again.”

“We all have one thing we aren’t good at,” Buffy muttered. She’d discovered the flammable nature of dishtowels, too. Only she hadn’t been trying to _fix_ the toaster, just use it. Forcing herself back to business, she told Faith, “I won’t ask Will to fix anything, I promise. We’ve already done enough damage to the building. I was thinking, if the cameras work, she could get them to transmit to her computer or something. Otherwise, this is a bad idea. One of us would have to sit in Snyder’s office and monitor the footage.”

They were almost to the administration wing. Buffy recognized the empty remnants of the bulletin board display cases and a tattered Razorbacks banner dangling along one wall. “I missed some of the conversation back in the office. What happened? Why was Will so rattled?”

Buffy regretted the question when Faith glared at her and said, “Why the hell do you think, B? You keep actin’ like she’s supposed to know everything. Red’s all outta answers and she fuckin’ hates letting you down.”

“Oh.” Looking away, Buffy pretended to examine the final few feet of hallway. “I… I don’t expect her to know all the answers, Faith.” Even as she protested, Buffy knew it was a lie. Willow had always been the one person she could trust to tell her how to save the world. Guilt settled like a weight on her chest. “I mean, we’ve got Tara and Giles working on a magic angle, and if that doesn’t work…”

“Don’t give me that crap, B.” Faith didn’t sound angry like she usually did when Willow was a topic of conversation. She sounded tired and worried. “The only reason Red’s on the computer and not messin’ with the magic is you’re hoping to turn Ethan off before the lightning bolts start flying.”

“And you’re not?” Buffy shot back, stung by the accuracy of Faith’s accusation. “You hate it when Willow does magic. You and Giles are always going on and on about how Will doesn’t know what she’s doing and how dangerous it is. I thought you’d be happy she’s not mixing eye of newt and puppy dog tails or whatever.”

She wasn’t expecting Faith’s quiet, “I am,” in response.

Why? Buffy had never understood why everyone thought magic was a bad idea. “Why?” She repeated her thought out loud. “I mean… Why? Why are you suddenly Giles’ biggest cheerleader on the anti-magic team? I don’t get it. Will’s magic has saved us more than once!” Biting off anything else, Buffy moved ahead of Faith and wrenched open the mangled door to the main office. Fueled by confusion and frustration, her efforts were a lot more than Buffy needed. The bent metal ripped from the hinges and landed on the floor with a cavernous boom.

The sound seemed to fill the hall and echoed in Buffy’s ears. “Nice going, B. Hope to Hell the soldiers ain’t outside looking for us. Might as well put a big fucking sign over our heads: Stupid Slayers Here!” Faith pushed Buffy out of the way. “Think you can get your shit together long enough to find these cameras? I wanna go check on Red.”

Grinding her teeth together didn’t make Buffy feel less stressed. It only gave her a headache and made her want to hit Faith more. She stalked through the dirty and debris-filled office to the door guarding Snyder’s old inner sanctum.

She made a special effort _not_ to pull this one completely away from the doorframe.

“If he had cameras, the monitors have to be in here,” Buffy said. “He practically lived in here, when he wasn’t lurking around some corner eavesdropping on conversations.” He’d nearly caught her and Giles discussing Slayer business more than once.

Nodding, Faith slipped into the office behind Buffy. “Creepy little bastard always seemed to know when I was droppin’ by for a visit.” She moved across the room and began opening cabinet doors. “Only thing is, B… If Snyder had eyes on the school, why didn’t he know about the whole vampire thing?”

Buffy didn’t know. Worse, she hadn’t even considered the option. “Giles spent every waking moment in the library back then. I bet Snyder couldn’t get in to install the camera.” It was a pathetic excuse for an answer. Unable to meet Faith’s gaze, Buffy ducked behind Snyder’s battered desk and searched through the few drawers still remaining in their niches.

Unfortunately, the explosion that had killed the Mayor had done a number on Snyder’s possessions. Heat had warped the wood and melted what Buffy assumed had once been pens. The files shoved haphazardly into the desk were singed and the words were faded or yellowed. The pieces of the past were interesting – and completely useless. “I’ve got nothing. I guess I was wrong. Snyder must have gotten his tips from the Psychic Hotline.”

“Nah. Red says that’s all a lie,” Faith said.

Snorting, Buffy dropped into the desk chair and cradled her head in her hands. What the hell where they going to do? “You believe Willow? What did she say to convince you? Didn’t the fifty gold rings the ‘psychic’ wore in the commercial clue you in?” The verbal jibe lacked bite. Buffy was too preoccupied for real scorn. Her mind whirled as she considered their situation. They had no cameras. They had no way to magically beat Ethan. They had nothing.

“Ain’t just that, B.” A cabinet door creaked across the room, and Buffy winced as the sound made her head pound harder. “I found Snyder’s stash. Got more TVs than Walmart. No wonder the little fuck knew so much.”

“You found them?” Buffy’s head came up so fast her neck cracked. “They work?” No way. They never had luck that good.

The flickering images on the row of small screens mocked Buffy’s disbelief. “Most of ‘em are good, B. Dark since there ain’t a lot of light but I got eyes on the locker room and that theater room or whatever you was gonna put us up in.” Faith turned and flashed her trademark smirk. “Wonder what ol’ Snyder did with _those_ tapes?”

“Don’t!” Buffy warned, one hand rising in a clear signal for Faith to stop. “Don’t even go there. I so don’t need images of Snyder watching people in the sound booth.” Her mind finally processed the words. Snyder. Watching the tapes. In his office. In his chair. The chair Buffy was using. Springing out of the desk chair, Buffy scrubbed both hands over the butt of her jeans. “Can you see any of the outside of the school?” Mental images of Riley, covered in camo and creeping up on them, helped Buffy push Snyder’s sick taste in movies away.

Moving closer, she peered over Faith’s shoulder. Cafeteria. Locker room. Sound booth. Buffy mentally ticked off most of the major hangouts in the school. That left six screens. “Yes! Who knew I’d ever want to thank Snyder the Troll for anything?” Each of the remaining screens showed grainy footage of the quad, the back of the main building, the area beneath the bleachers in the football stadium, and the fire exits used by the smokers. “Let’s go tell the gang.”

***

It was quiet after Buffy and Faith left. Too quiet. Tara stared intently at the table. Buffy had said she should talk with Giles about magic. She would – if she only knew what to say.

“Ethan and I were mates when we were both rebellious youths, my dear. Buffy is correct that I may have more insight into his mind than anyone,” Giles said softly, interrupting Tara’s silent quandary. “I do not believe she has considered the fact that our current situation is outside any of my previous experiences.”

“I th-think Buffy is c-completely aware of that, Mis-ster Giles.” Tara looked up; she had to. This was important. “ _All_ of th-this is new. Soldiers. G-guns. Eth-Ethan.” The stakes were so high. They had to find a way to stay alive.

And that’s where Tara floundered.

 _How_ did they survive? Giles might seem anti-magic to Buffy and Willow. Tara understood his hesitance, though. Ethan represented everything her mother had warned her about. His power was incredible; his evil terrifying. Throw in the computer chip controlling his actions, and Ethan was the embodiment of magical misuse. “We need a w-way to shut Ethan off,” Tara said softly, repeating Buffy’s earlier comment.

Tara’s voice wasn’t soft enough. “I’m looking! This isn’t as easy as Buffy thinks,” Willow snapped. The flickering candlelight and the glow from her computer cast her face in shifting patterns of shadow; it was still enough to show Willow’s frustrated expression. “Why can’t we just blow him up or something? Or…Or pull the chip out with a spell? I saw something in one of your books, Giles. A spell to remove a person’s heart. I bet it would work if we changed the words.”

“No.” For once, there was no lack of confidence or a trace of a stutter as Tara replied. “That’s black magic, Willow.”

Willow’s eyes rose from behind the laptop. “Yeah, but it isn’t like we’d be doing it all the time. It’s only once, and…”

Tara raised her hand without conscious thought. “Once, twice, a hundred times. The number d-doesn’t matter. It’s wrong.”  She could feel everyone in the room staring. Staring and waiting for a better solution than Willow’s spell. Unfortunately for them all, Tara didn’t have anything else to offer.

“Are you sure there is nothing in the Professor’s files, Willow?” Giles asked. Straightening in his chair, he gestured to the paperwork on the table. “From what you’ve printed, it seems she is very detailed in her notes. Whatever her true purpose with Ethan, Professor Walsh is a successful researcher. She would not embark on such an important project without documentation.”

“I know, Giles,” Willow mumbled through a sudden yawn. “It’s like she wrote – or typed, since it’s on computer – everything she ever did or thought. Except when it came to Ethan.  There’s a black hole of information on him. I’ve been hacking files all over that lab we found. You wouldn’t _believe_ some of the things they’ve been up to.”

Yet nothing on Ethan. It didn’t make sense. Tara frowned and looked across the room at their captives. Walsh stared back with a superior smirk. She was obviously convinced they were fighting a lost cause. That thought kept Tara from dropping her gaze. Walsh wasn’t going to win. They simply had to think outside the box. “W-Willow, what other proj-jects did you find?” If they didn’t have what it took to beat Ethan, maybe Walsh had inadvertently created something else they could use. Or she’d have to look into Willow’s suggestion for magical solutions…


	40. Chapter 40

“Wow. You want projects, I’ve got projects.” Willow punched a few buttons on her laptop and proceeded to rattle them off. She finished with a flourish of one hand. “And the big winner is demon research and the Super Soldier project our favorite Doctors Frankenstein were doing. That’s it. Nothing specifically about Ethan. Less than nothing on magic.”

It didn’t make sense. Tara frowned and stared at the paperwork in her hands. Giles had been correct; she couldn’t believe Professor Walsh hadn’t kept notes. Maybe she had been afraid the colonel would discover her plans.

That was it. _That_ was the answer to where the professor kept her notes. “Wil-Willow,” Tara said intently, “did you only check the m-military computers?”

“Yeah.” Willow regarded her quizzically. “I mean, they’re the ones slicing and dicing the demons. Where else did you want me to look? I could probably hack into the Pentagon system if I had more time.”

Tara was momentarily derailed. “The Pentagon?” Willow could get into the Pentagon computers? Then she tore her focus off that terrifying prospect – and the mental image of a federal prison – and said, “No. I don’t th-think the military has any idea what’s going on. C-Colonel En-Englemann didn’t know; I doubt his superiors do. Professor Walsh wanted to keep her special pr-project secret. She wouldn’t risk leaving notes on th- _their_ system. What if she used the university’s?”

Willow’s mouth opened and closed comically. Then she mumbled, “I didn’t think about that. Give me a minute.” She glowered at the computer and began typing.

A few minutes passed while Tara sifted through the paperwork. Finally settling on the diagram of Ethan, she peered at it, trying to make sense of the notes and tiny drawings. The chip was easy to identify; a single, tiny dot sat toward the back of the humanoid figure’s head.

“You’re right, Tara. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before!” Willow complained, right before admitting, “Here it is. Walsh put it in plain view. The file’s in a folder labeled ‘Rayne, Ethan.’ Stupid! Lock everything up on demon research and put the super secret project on a server with less security than a 7-Eleven.”

Joyce got up from her chair and stretched. “Stop pouting, honey. Faith isn’t here.”

Tara thought she caught Giles smirk at the rebuke before he hid his face behind a handful of paperwork. “Is there information on Ethan that we might use?” he asked.

“Yes.” Willow’s voice was stiff. “It looks like Walsh’s chip attaches to the frontal lobe, the part that controls decision-making and purposeful behavior. The plan was to use small electrical pulses to influence Ethan’s thought process.”

“ _Influence_?” Giles sat forward, the paperwork (and the smirk) forgotten.

Spinning in the desk chair until she faced them, Willow nodded. “That’s what it says. The chip is way experimental, Giles. From the earliest notes, things didn’t always go the way Walsh wanted. Ethan isn’t her first try at this. There was a list of names, along with matching files.” Whether it was the fall of shadows in the room or real emotion, Willow’s expression was grim. “I recognized most of the names, Giles. They were witches that mysteriously disappeared from Sunnydale in the last couple of years.”

Tara’s stomach twisted. “What were the n-names?” The information wasn’t relevant, and she didn’t care.

“Angelique Winston, Mara Carstairs, Sara O’Dell,” Willow read off the computer screen. She paused for a minute to scroll down, and Tara grew impatient.

“Was there a J-John Stevens on the list?” Tara demanded. It was depressing – and terrifying – to realize how many people Professor Walsh had used for her experiments. However, Tara didn’t know any of the women Willow had already mentioned. She _had_ known John through a local coven.

Unfortunately, her pointed question distracted Willow and caught the attention of Giles and Joyce. “My dear, what do you know…” Tara assumed Giles had started to ask if she somehow knew more about Walsh’s project than she’d let on.

Willow jumped in before he could finish. “No, Tara,” she said quickly. “All of the missing witches were women.”

Thank the Goddess. “Thank you.” Tara realized her hands were clenched and consciously opened them, wiggling her aching fingers. “I…John disappeared last year. I th-thought maybe…” It hadn’t been like her friend to disappear or not stay in contact. From her new position in the Scoobies, Tara knew if Walsh wasn’t the culprit then it was very likely a vampire had been. Fighting the threat of tears, she told Giles, “I d-don’t know anyth-thing more ab-bout Pr-Professor Walsh and her p-plans, Mr. Giles. J-John was a fr-friend. That’s all.”

“I’m very sorry, Tara.” No matter how irritating he might have been earlier, Giles responded with a kind smile and a pat on Tara’s hands.

“Me, too.” Willow looked torn between offering sympathy to Tara and continuing to recount information. Duty won out. “The new notes I found are really detailed, guys. Maybe we can use it on Ethan.”

“Indeed. You said Professor Walsh’ chip only influenced the subject’s behavior and decisions.” Giles stood and slowly paced behind Willow. “Is it possible that at least some of Ethan’s own personality remains? Could we persuade him to stop his attacks?”

Tara was too new to risk the “Duh!” that immediately wanted to spring to her lips.

Willow did it for her. “Are we talking about the same Ethan Rayne? The crazy guy who turned us all into our Halloween costumes? The same one who tried to kill us at least twice before we even graduated from high school? The one who turned Buffy into a cave Slayer?” She threw her hands in the air. “Sure. We’ll just wave when he shows up and say, ‘Hey, Mr. Rayne. Can you please act less like an evil robot and more like your usual – which is also evil - self? Can’t we all just get along?’”

Giles’ face went red and Tara jumped in before things got out of hand. “Mr. Giles h-has a point, Willow.” Willow frowned and appeared mutinous. Tara didn’t let that dissuade her. “Unless th-there was inform-mation on how to turn Eth-than off, it’s the best pl-plan we have. How would we br-break through Professor Walsh’s c-control, though?”

“That I do not know,” Giles admitted quietly. “Appeals to his better nature aside,” he shot Willow a glare, “I can only think to remind Ethan of our time together in London.”

That didn’t sound very helpful. Tara didn’t have the entire story about Ethan Rayne, but she got the impression he’d moved on from his friendship with Giles. “W-was there anything else in the f-files, Willow?” she asked to give the older man a chance to flesh out his strategy – and to recover his composure.

“I did find the specs for the control chip.” Willow typed on her computer for a second and the printer across the room whirred to life. “I know you guys think being nice to Ethan will work…” She and Giles were obviously going continue taking cheap shots at each other for a while. “Figuring out a way to cut the connection to the chip, though, has more potential for stopping him. Can you take a look at the diagram? I’m trying to find the server Walsh is using to send orders to Ethan; if I can’t find it, maybe you can come up with another option.”

***

The trip back to the Research Room took far less time than the trip to Snyder’s office. Faith and Buffy ran the entire way. By unspoken, mutual agreement, both slowed only when they entered the Science Wing.

That’s when the conversation _inside_ the Research Room filtered into the hall. Thanks to Slayer hearing, Willow’s voice echoed. _“Are we talking about the same Ethan Rayne? The crazy guy who turned us all into our Halloween costumes?”_

Buffy’s hand shot up, halting Faith’s progress, and she listened to the rest of Willow’s tirade. God, it was the Mayor and the Master and every unbeatable evil all over again. Imminent death and no way to stop it.

And Willow, wading in with logic and determination to save the day. Or…trying to, anyway.

The crushing weight of Slayer responsibility settled on Buffy’s shoulders. Finding a way to win was supposed to be her job. Since the beginning, she’d broken the rules. She’d relied on a support system no other Slayer had ever had. Support Buffy wasn’t _supposed_ to have.

“Come on,” Buffy told Faith in a muted voice. “Let’s go share the good news. It sounds like they need some.” It was long past time she did her part in providing a little positive information and discovering the answer to their problem. Somehow.

Faith hesitated. “B? Something wrong?”

Damn. Cursing Faith’s sudden intuition, Buffy pasted on a hopefully reassuring smile. “I thought you wanted to see Willow? Unless we move from this spot, that’s not going to happen.” She took a step toward the construction office. “OK then. I’m leaving you here,” she finally threatened just to spur Faith on.

“Whatever. You’d get lost on the way,” Faith mumbled. With long, hurried strides, she walked the last few feet and disappeared into the office. Buffy followed more slowly and watched Faith take up a spot behind Willow’s chair.

“Ah, welcome back. Was the Slayer strategy session a success?” Giles inquired. His smile was forced. Buffy wondered why he bothered after all this time. Everyone in the room (including a smirking Professor Walsh) knew they didn’t have a clue about defeating Ethan. “We’ve located information which may prove useful.”

Giles’ interpretation of the conversation Buffy and Faith had overheard didn’t seem to jibe with hers. “Useful?” Buffy avoided glancing in Faith’s direction and played dumb. “That’s good. Faith and I found something, too.” The words felt stiff and uncooperative in her mouth. She paused long enough to take a calming breath and a seat next to Tara. “Snyder had the school wired with cameras. The monitors were in his office, still working. If Will can hack the signal, we can watch from here for Riley and Company to march in.”

Willow was typing before Buffy finished speaking. “That’s easy, Buffy. Give me a couple; I want to set up the construction foreman’s laptop for the video feed. That way we can keep using mine for research.”

Something Willow said tickled Buffy’s mind. It seemed like such a simple idea. She was probably way off base. “Um, Will?” Better to be safe than sorry. If she was wrong… Well, Buffy was used to ridicule at research meetings.

“I’m almost there, Buffy,” Willow immediately said. “I’ve got the signal; it’s weak, though. I have to boost the reception and it’s taking longer than I thought.”

Buffy sank lower in her chair as Willow’s obvious frustration and worry reinforced Faith’s statement about her girlfriend feeling responsible for solving their problems. “Take your time, Will,” she said, hoping to soothe Willow’s ruffled feathers. “You’re doing fine.”

The compliment was sincere. In fact, it was a gross understatement. However, Willow didn’t look any better. The dim light made the dark semi-circles of exhaustion under her eyes look like bruises, and she hadn’t stopped frowning since Buffy’s interjection. “Got it,” Willow said after only a few seconds. “I’ve boosted the feed. Faith, can you help me set up the other laptop?”

Tuning out the joint scramble to piece together the technology, Buffy leaned closer to Tara. “How are you holding up?” she whispered.

A wan smile belied Tara’s “I’m fine, Buffy.”

“Uh huh.” Buffy caught Tara’s eyes before she could duck her head. “Didn’t you know? One of my super powers is seeing when people are lying.” If only. “I’m sorry you got sucked into this. Who knew the university computers could change your life so drastically with one simple roommate request.”

Tara gently poked Buffy’s arm. “Stop it. You can’t blame yourself for any of this. The roommate thing was an accident. Or fate. I believe the Goddess had a plan in mind when she sent us that letter. I’m _supposed_ to be a part of what you do.” Her hand dropped until her fingers rested lightly on Buffy’s thigh. “And I could have walked away, Buffy. You and Willow… You didn’t make me stay.”

Some of the weight on Buffy’s shoulders slipped off. “OK.” Tara’s head tilted at Buffy’s less than enthusiastic agreement. “Fine,” Buffy muttered, her lips twitching into a small smile. “I didn’t twist your arm – even if I did knock you down and sprawl on top of you.”

They both laughed at the reminder of the fiasco in the Summers’ kitchen.

“Glad you’re havin’ fun, B. Me and Red got the work done,” Faith snapped, breaking the mood and recalling Tara and Buffy back to duty.

Buffy looked across the table at the second laptop. Grainy, darkened images of the school showed in a grid marked with date and time stamps. “You’re the best, Will.” She winked at her best friend and then tacked on, “Thanks for picking up my slack, Faith.” It was fun, even with the pressing need to move on, to see Faith’s eyes widen in shock at the compliment. “Now…I think Snyder’s spy operation may help solve our Ethan problem, too.”

No one said anything, but Buffy could _hear_ their unspoken doubts and questions.

“We hijacked Snyder’s home movies.” Leaning her arms on the table, Buffy prayed she was on the right track and not about to  make a fool of herself. “His cameras had to send a signal. Doesn’t Walsh – or her computer – have to do the same to control Ethan? If we _find_ that, can’t we take over like with did with those?” she asked, pointing to the laptop.


	41. Chapter 41

“We could,” Willow said softly. “If I could find the server…” Rubbing at her face, she wouldn’t meet Buffy’s eyes. “I’ve been trying all night. The military computers don’t have the information, and I’m running a check on the university servers right now. They’re a long shot, Buffy. Not even the techno-idiots at UCS would miss Professor Walsh hijacking an entire system to play with Robo-Ethan; not to mention how old the equipment is here. The university is lucky it can run anything more complex than a couple TIs.”

Buffy didn’t know what a “TI” was. She didn’t care. Willow managed to get her message across despite the computer mumbo jumbo: finding an answer wasn’t going to be easy. Of course not. That would have been too…well, easy. “Where else can we look?” She didn’t want to give up yet. Maybe there was a chance to salvage her idea. “What kind of computer would Walsh need?”

Finally looking up, Willow shrugged. “It’s not the computer that’s important. I can control Ethan from here once we make contact with the chip.”

Buffy was tempted to bang her head on the table. Damn Willow and all the technical jargon. Keeping her voice calm and steady, she said, “I don’t get it. You said you needed a ‘server’. How can you use your laptop if you don’t have that?” Some of her frustration leaked out at the end, and Buffy watched Willow flinch as her voice rose.

“Does it matter, B?” With her usual hack and slash logic, Faith interrupted. “Why don’t we just get the info out of Walsh? Bet she can’t take more’n a few smacks before she gives up the goods.”

Tara’s hand tightened around Buffy’s, and a quick glance in her direction showed clear disgust and disagreement. Too bad. For once, a little casual violence hadn’t sounded like a bad strategy. Reluctantly sticking to the moral high ground, Buffy shook her head. “We don’t work that way, Faith.” Even when it might save the world. “Let Will finish explaining about the computers, OK? Then we’ll see what other options we’ve got.”

 The grip on Buffy’s hand eased and even Giles appeared pleased with Buffy’s choice. Perfect. She was turning into a mini-Watcher, complete with her own slow down and think motto. Barely stifling a groan, Buffy gestured with her free hand at Willow. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Um… Do you really want me to tell you about servers?” Willow asked, clearly believing Buffy was kidding.

No. Buffy really just wanted Willow to do her magic with the computer without giving them all headaches. However, she’d vowed to take more responsibility in finding a solution, and that meant learning what it was that Willow actually _did_ on her laptop. “Yep. Lay it out for me.” Buffy even managed an encouraging smile.

The smile worked. Some of Willow’s intensity lifted and she grinned back. “A laptop is for one person, Buffy. You or me.” A hint of mischief lit her eyes. “Or Giles.”

Faith’s snort merged with Joyce’s exaggerated cough. Covering her own laugh with a faked yawn, Buffy nodded. “Got it. One laptop. One person. Does that mean a server equals many people?”

“Yeah. A server’s huge. Well, not in size. They can be really small. Unlike a laptop, servers run really complex operating systems and have networking capabilities.” Hacker Willow was making a noticeable comeback. Her words flowed together and she showed no sign of breathing. “A computer is limited. It’s just a computer. A server can actually link _multiple_ computers and run bunches of programs, all at one time. The human brain would require all that and more. Thoughts, decisions, feelings. Hundreds of thousands of them a second. We’re looking for something big, Buffy. I have to hack that server in order to have a _chance_ at reprogramming Ethan’s chip.”

Long experience with this version of her friend spurred Buffy to interrupt before Willow rambled the rest of the night. “So, Walsh had to use this server thing because running Ethan takes more than one computer?” It took skill to unravel Willowbabble; thankfully, Buffy had had plenty of practice over the years. She knew she’d got the summary correct when Willow nodded. “If we find the super computer, you break in, take it over, and turn Ethan off.”

“Exactly,” Willow said; although, she appeared uncomfortable with Buffy’s glib surety in her success.

Walsh stirred in her bonds. “You will never be able to find that server,” Walsh snarled. “I left those notes on my computer because no one at that pathetic school had the brains to understand them. Do you really think I’d take a chance that _anyone_ would discover my biggest accomplishment?”

For the first time, Buffy almost felt sorry for Walsh. Faith must have shared her sympathy. “Hate to break it to ya’, Doc. You ain’t got a clue what my Red can do. Find your server thing? No problem. Keep your robot from killin’ us all? Got it covered.”

Walsh didn’t look impressed. “I’ve seen little of her talents in class.”

It was too much. Buffy laughed. “You weren’t watching. Not to mention you were teaching the wrong subject. Will’s the best when it comes to things that have real answers or have anything to do with saving the world.” Standing, she stretched and yawned, nearly giddy at the way Walsh slumped in her chair and scowled at her.

The euphoria faded when Willow said quietly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys. But what if she’s right? What if I can’t find the server?”

Walsh’s scowl showed a hint of a smirk, and Buffy jumped to her feet. Tara stood, too, blocking her view of the professor. “Move, Tara,” she said, not bothering to keep her voice down. She was done letting Walsh mock their every move.

“No.” Tara was adamant. She stayed in Buffy’s personal space, blue eyes intent and unflinching. “Don’t you understand? She’s pushing your buttons, Buffy. She _wants_ you distracted and angry.”

“She’s just like the Mayor, Buffy,” Willow chimed in. “Only Walsh uses words and not poisoned arrows.” The comparison shocked Buffy out of her plans for violence and revenge even before Willow continued. “I wonder if she’s going after us for the same reasons, too. Are we on the right track, maybe? Getting a little too close for comfort?” She directed the final questions directly at Walsh.

If Willow hoped to get a reaction out of Walsh, she failed. Buffy ground her teeth at Walsh’s unruffled and superior expression. “How do we help you find that server, Will?” She wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of returning to the underground lab; still, Buffy vowed to do just that if necessary.

“There isn’t much you can do, Buffy.” Willow leaned back in her chair, head resting against Faith’s abdomen. “I’ve got feelers out. There are only a few places in Sunnydale with systems capable of running the types of programs Walsh would need for this.” She hesitated, and Buffy sensed more bad news on the way. “I have to be careful, though. Walsh may have planted boobytraps, viruses or embedded programs if the server is hacked. One wrong keystroke and I could destroy any chance we have of beating Ethan.”

***

Buffy absorbed Willow’s words like a blow. She hunched forward and grimaced, and Tara wondered again how Buffy, how the entire group, faced this type of situation over and over without breaking. She wanted to do something to help, and her first instinct was to wrap her arms around an obviously disheartened Buffy.

Instead, Tara sank back into her chair and stared at the pile of paperwork. Willow couldn’t find the server. If the Goddess leant a hand, and that changed, Willow still might not be able to do anything for fear of unleashing the computer version of an apocalypse.

They were doomed.

“Red, we gotta find a way.” Faith left her spot behind Willow and perched on the edge of the desk, leg brushing Willow’s shoulder. “Think outside the box. So you can’t find the server. How else can ya’ get into Ethan’s head?”

“Short of a frontal lobotomy, you mean?” Willow’s grin lack humor of any kind. “I’m out of ideas, Faith. I am Answer Girl no more. In fact, I think I’ve got more questions than answers.”

The room grew silent. Giles’ chair squeaked when he shifted, and Joyce restlessly straightened a few books on the table next to her. “Perhaps we should consider another plan altogether,” Giles finally offered. “Controlling Ethan carries poor odds. Tara, my dear, if we cannot defeat his magics outright, could we pool our resources to stun him long enough for Buffy and Faith to disable him physically?”

Pool what resources? “Y-you mean me and Wil-Willow?” Tara stuttered in disbelief. They’d tried that on campus – and failed miserably.

“Well, I _do_ have some experience with the arcane.” Giles peered at Tara over the rims of his glasses. “And, in my heyday, I daresay I had more ability than Ethan. Professor Walsh’s computer chip could not enhance his talents that greatly.”

“Yes, they could.” Tara was so intent on conveying that thought her stutter was forgotten. “I don’t care what the notes or Willow say, Ethan is too much for us. I felt him.” And she wasn’t doing it again unless there was a lot of evidence to show he’d lost his connection to the ley lines and nodes.

Unfortunately, her refusal to use magic didn’t help Buffy. Slouching into a chair, Buffy ran both hands through her hair. “Magic is out. Computers are out. That leaves Slayer power.” Her eyes, ringed with exhaustion and darkened by hopelessness, locked onto Faith. “Looks like we need to do more than watch the videos, Faith. How do you feel about setting a few traps of our own?”

“Aw, B. If I wasn’t already with Red…” Faith’s dimples invited everyone to share her mirth – until Willow smacked a hand into her leg and she grunted, smile disappearing. “Damn it, Red, I thought we talked about that. No rough stuff in public.”

Willow turned tomato red as Buffy giggled. “Faith!”

The sharp admonition didn’t faze Faith. With an outrageous wink, she hopped off the desk and kissed Willow as if they were alone in the room. When she broke away, Willow’s flush had deepened. “Don’t let G-man bully you into doin’ some crazy magic trick. Stay with the computer,” Faith ordered before following Buffy from the room.

They left a dazed Willow and a very unhappy Giles in their wake. Tara wanted to jump in before either of them recovered, but she didn’t know what to say. She was out of her element. In her experience, computers were for typing research papers, and magic was simply a way to honor the Goddess and her Creations.

“Willow, can I ask a question?” Joyce hesitantly broke the momentary silence.

Spinning her chair to face Joyce, Willow visibly gathered the tattered remains of her composure. “Sure, Mrs. Summers. About what?”

Joyce tucked her hair behind an ear and waved at the laptops on the desk. “I don’t understand something. You used _that_ laptop,” she said, pointing to the construction foreman’s computer, “to steal the signal for the security videos. You didn’t need a server for that. You only needed to locate the signal, right?”

Willow’s faced scrunched up in confusion. “Yeah. The video feed’s not exactly a big deal, though. Not like Ethan’s chip.”

“I understand that part, honey,” Joyce said dryly. “No matter how many cameras that nasty little man put in this school, he was nowhere near as accomplished as the professor. What I’m wondering, Willow, is this: why do we really need the server?”

Tara wasn’t ready for another lesson in the intricacies of computer, and Willow was very clearly about to give one.

Luckily, Joyce held up her hand to stop the lecture. “Please don’t waste your breath repeating what you said earlier. I was here, and I paid attention. I think you are all missing a very simple solution to your problem.”


	42. Chapter 42

“I…I don’t…” For once, Willow didn’t seem to know what to say. Her hands flapped uselessly and she stared blankly at Joyce.

Joyce stood and walked over to the desk. “Honey,” she said, patting Willow’s shoulder gently. “I’m sure finding the server and taking control of Ethan would keep us safe. Do you really need to go that far, though? Why control him? Why not just cut off the signal?”

Willow went so white, Tara thought she might faint. Then the color rushed back until white became bright red. “I still need the server to turn it off!” she snapped. “I need the server and I can’t find it. Don’t you get it?”

“Calm down, Willow.” Joyce wasn’t the calm, gentle mother figure this time. Tara now knew where Buffy got her Command Voice. “It isn’t any different than the radio-controlled Barbie car Buffy had. You turned it off with the remote – your server – but sometimes I could turn it off by cooking something in the microwave.”

She paused and resumed her seat. “We know Ethan will come here,” Joyce pointed out. “He’s been programmed to find Buffy. When he shows up, can you do what that microwave used to do? Interfere with the signal and shut him off?”

“I don’t know,” Willow admitted. “I mean, I guess it’s possible.” She was floundering, all her usual cheerful confidence gone. “If Ethan shows up; if I find something to be your microwave; if we’re all still alive…”

Acting as if Willow’s response was a ringing endorsement, Joyce smiled. “Good. Now we can help Buffy and Faith get set up. Ideas?”

Tara stared at Joyce, wide-eyed. She might not share Willow’s pessimism, but she did realize beating Ethan and all those soldiers wasn’t going to be that easy. Silent seconds passed. Giving up on understanding Joyce, she glanced at the rest of the room.

They didn’t understand, either.

Giles cleaned his glasses with a handkerchief. Little squeaks emitted every time his fingers moved. And Willow seemed intent on typing an entire screen of the same letter; she stabbed at a one key, over and over, as if it were personally responsible for their problems.

It was time for Tara to step in. Step up. “I…W-We,” she stuttered, deciding at the last minute to include Willow in what she hoped would be an acceptable plan, “can’t beat Eth-than with magic. There are other things. N-Not real magic.” Tara wanted to make that point very clear. “Not lightning bolts or f-fireballs. Maybe a glam-mour or wards.”

***

“You think they’re gonna be OK?” Faith asked, interrupting Buffy’s intense study of a locker door.

“What?” Buffy turned, giving Faith her full attention. “What...who are you talking about?”

Faith stopped and smacked one palm against the wall. “Angel.” The name hung in the air while she glared at Buffy. “He was kinda pale the last time I saw him.” With a roll of her eyes, she continued. “Red and your girl. Who the fuck did you think I meant? Get your head outta your ass and pay attention. Will ain’t used to this. She ain’t good with not having the answers; I told you that.”

“Yes, you did.” Buffy stepped into Faith’s space and poked her in the chest. “I listened. Didn’t you hear me tell her she was doing a good job? I even gave _you_ a pat on the back, not that it did any good. What do you want me to do? I know Will doesn’t know everything, but this is what we do. We have a plan. A plan that _I_ came up with because I don’t want Willow to think she has to do it all by herself. Unless she suddenly decides to sit on the sidelines, this is the way it’s always going to be.”

Looking at Buffy’s finger, resting against her chest, Faith mumbled, “She’s scared, B. I don’t…I don’t like it when Red gets that way.”

Buffy sighed and dropped her hand. “Neither do I.” It wasn’t the first time they’d agreed on something; it was, however, the first time Buffy remembered them on the same side of a Willow-involved issue. “Willow shouldn’t be here. None of them should. I mean, my mom? It freaks me out that she even knows about the Slaying. Having her back there…” Stopping the flood of words before she had to actually confront her own fears, Buffy raised her hands in a show of surrender. “All we can do is try to keep them safe, Faith.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Faith sounded as if she was working to convince herself. “How do we do that?” She looked around the dark, trash-strewn hallway. “Things ain’t changed since the last time we came down this way.”

“Sure it has,” Buffy countered hotly. God, she was sick and tired of making motivational speeches. No one ever helped _her_ stay upbeat about another hopeless situation. “The gang is working on controlling Ethan. They know how to do that!” she shouted.

“And what are we doing?” Faith shouted back. “You said we was gonna set traps. With what? Old posters and some beat up lockers?”

The verbal jab hurt, and it was nothing less than the truth. All they had were the remains of a high school Buffy had already destroyed. On the verge of lashing back at Faith, Buffy froze and saw something she’d never noticed before. Faith was scared, too. Their chances of winning relied on one crazy idea. Willow was struggling. They had Giles and Joyce about to take the fall with them.

Faith was scared.

The realization stabilized Buffy’s teetering emotions. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we use. Even if we had guns, that’s not what we do, Faith.” She took another look around the hall. “I know this place better than anyone; that has to count for something. Riley and Ethan aren’t going to know that the stairwell near the English classrooms gives you a perfect place to hide and spy – or throw things – at anyone in the hall.”

“You think we’re gonna be like that kid in the movie? The one that beat up on the guys trying to break into his house?” Laughing, Faith started walking again. “Nice, B. Thought that’d be more my thing. What d’you want to do first?”

Getting into the spirit of the idea, Buffy pointed to a bucket sitting in a doorway. “There are a bunch of bags of concrete back in the science wing. If we mix it up and put it in those buckets, mount them over a few of the doors…”

“Concrete soldiers.” Faith resumed walking. “Remember that big hole in the floor by the gym? Bet if we pulled a tarp or something over it, nobody’d see it in the dark.”

***

Dusting off her hands, Buffy raised an eyebrow at Faith. “Did we take care of your doubts?”

“Nah. I ain’t ever gonna be all sweetness and shit like you, B.” Faith’s dimples taunted Buffy. “I do think them soldiers are screwed, though. Either gonna be covered in concrete, laying in a hole, or stuck in a freezer.”

“Oh, yeah.” Buffy did a victory dance. “Finding that tape recorder was sweet.” Riley had been sniffing around her every day in Psych class; he’d follow the sound of her recorded voice right into that walk-in freezer in the kitchen. “You ready to check in with the gang?” The question wasn’t necessary. Buffy was honestly surprised Faith hadn’t already started toward the construction office.

A tired smirk gave Buffy all the answer she needed, and she braced for Faith’s verbal response. “You itchin’ to get back to your girl, B? You shoulda said something earlier; that last concrete bucket didn’t need two people.”

It was the second time Faith had referred to Tara as Buffy’s girl. “Don’t call her that,” Buffy ordered, not sure why the phrase bothered her so much. She stared at Faith, daring her to comment, to push. When no more taunts were forthcoming, she spun and headed for the office. It had been a long day; it was time to settle in and rest. Experience said Ethan and his goons would be there soon, and they had to be ready.

***

Examining the pile of supplies on the table, Tara allowed herself a small measure of confidence. Willow’s bag of magical tricks and the discovery of a surprisingly well-stocked science classroom meant she could cast a few wards. Enough to cover the areas lacking cameras, anyway.

“I think I found your microwave, Mrs. Summers.” Willow got up from the desk and rubbed her lower back with both hands. “We’re going to have to sacrifice one of Snyder’s cameras, though. I found a website that claims you can use a spy camera and a nine-volt battery to disrupt wireless signals?”

No one answered the query; not that Willow appeared to notice. She paced back and forth, talking to no one in particular. “All I have to do is hook up the battery and turn on the camera. Poof! Like staking a vampire. No more pesky signal. Ethan will be back to his normal, creepy self. No more Super Sorcerer.”

“Wicked.” Faith announced as she and Buffy walked in. “Guess you and me can get home in time for some...” She finished the comment with comically wiggled eyebrows and an outrageous smirk.

Tara giggle, enjoying their continued play.

“Do not, I beg you, say anything more.” Giles held up a hand, lips twitching suspiciously. “Willow and Tara have made great strides while you were gone. Sit down and let them explain what they have planned.”

Faith nodded, but winked at Tara as she sauntered by.

“We’ll take all the good news you have to give.” Buffy walked to the table and sat down in what Tara now considered “her” chair.

“Your mom solved our problem with Ethan,” Willow said. “I think you need to hire her full time, Buffy. She figured out that all we have to do is block the signal Walsh’s computer is sending to Ethan. If you and Faith can get me one of Snyder’s cameras, I can use it as a jammer.”

Buffy pointed a finger at Joyce. “When this is over, you and I are having a long talk.” Then she turned back to Willow. “So you do this jamming thing. Got it. Giles said you and Tara had news, though. What else?”

Hesitantly, Tara picked up the conversation. “I’ve got a f-few th-things. Magic,” she said softly. “I can put up w-wards where th-there aren’t cam-meras. Maybe even cast a glamour.” Buffy’s face scrunched in confusion so Tara elaborated. “A f-fake image. I c-can make the s-soldiers see someth-thing that’s not there.”

A slow, sinister smile lit Buffy’s face. “I have the perfect place for that.” She looked at Faith, who echoed her evil expression. “What do you think, Faith?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tara shivered at the chill satisfaction in Faith’s reply. “Them assholes won’t know what hit ‘em.”


	43. Chapter 43

“What…What precisely have you planned?” Giles didn’t _sound_ overly concerned; however, Tara noticed his eyes were wide behind the lenses of the glasses he had returned to their perch on his nose.

Buffy snorted. “Not what you’re thinking, Giles,” she answered. “I know Faith and I haven’t impressed you with our planning skills up to now; give us some credit, though. Staying alive trumps making jokes. We put our movie-watching weekends to good use and set up some traps. Riley and Friends better not try to steal any Christmas gifts.”

“Chr-Christmas gifts?” Turning in her chair, Tara watched Buffy smile. She was happy. Almost giddy. Why was Buffy giddy? What kind of traps and she and Faith thought up?

To make the situation more frightening, Faith began laughing.

“OK, not that I don’t like hearing you laugh, Faith…” Willow rolled her chair next to Faith and wrapped one arm around her waist. “I _am_ big on the freak when you and Buffy are sharing the fun. Fistfights, I can handle. A pair of giggling Slayers? Not so much. What, exactly, did you do?”

“I’m totally offended  you would be happier if Faith and I were pounding on each other.” Tara thought Buffy’s pout was cute. “Fine!” Throwing her hands in the air, Buffy continued. “All we did was set up a few traps, Will. You know… Concrete buckets perched over doors. A tape recorder in a freezer. Nothing deadly, I swear.”

The relief from the rest of the group was palpable. “Forgive me, Buffy. I shared Willow’s unease; I should have trusted your judgment.” Giles cleared his throat – and changed the subject. “It appears as if you _did_ pay attention to some of my past lectures on strategy and environmental weaponry. I am curious how you believe Tara’s glamours would work with one of the traps you set”

Ah. That was the reason for Faith’s earlier smile. Tara had missed that connection. Leaning back in her chair, she waited for Buffy to answer.

“Yeah. There’s this big hole in the floor over by the main office. We used some drop cloths the construction guys left to hide it. You can still see it, though. If Tara can make the cloth look like tile…” Tilting her head at Tara, Burry raised an eyebrow. “Faith and I dragged a few of the wrestling mats underneath the hole. No one’s going to get hurt by the fall.”

Face warming at Buffy’s reassurance, Tara hesitantly nodded her assent. “I th-think I can do that, Buffy.”  She gestured to the pile of supplies they’d gathered. “W-we have enough for two or th-three spells.”

“Thanks, Tara. You, too, Will.” Buffy yawned. “God, we need to get that camera then some sleep. Faith, stay behind with the girls…” She broke off, blushing, when Faith snorted and coughed to hide what Tara suspected was a laugh. “I mean, stay with the _gang_ while I grab the camera. Mom, Giles, you get first sleep shift. I want two of us watching the video all the time in case Ethan shows up.”

Her hand brushed Tara’s under the table, fingers momentarily closing in a warm caress. Tara unconsciously squeezed back. When Buffy stood and strode from the door, her hand felt cold. Abandoned. Glancing up, she saw Faith watching her closely. “Wh-what?” Tara stuttered.

“Nothin’.” Buffy had been right. Faith lied very badly. It was clear she was holding something back. “Just wonderin’ why I ain’t going after the camera instead of B.”

“That’s easy, honey.” Joyce smiled and pointed at the way Willow was resting against Faith, eyes blinking sleepily. “Buffy knows Willow went through her magic supplies with Tara after all that computer work earlier. They’ve been friends a long time. Why would Buffy risk tangling with a tired, grumpy witch?”

Instead of denying the point, Willow snuggled closer to Faith. “Not grumpy,” she mumbled through a yawn. “Only tired. It’s been at least a month since the last time we saved the world, and I’m out of practice.”

A sharp movement across the room prefaced Giles’ exclamation. “Bloody hell!”

“Rupert?” Joyce was the first to respond, even as Willow and Faith straightened. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Movement in one of the bloody cameras.” Giles hurried to the desk and leaned close to Willow’s laptop. “I cannot see them now; however, I am sure I saw two, perhaps three people outside the administration office.”

And Buffy was in the school alone. Tara bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. They had to find her. Warn her.

Unfortunately, Tara wasn’t in charge of the team. “Time to get things rollin’ then,” Faith said, sounding almost relieved. “Red, you stay here and wait for B and the camera. Me and Tara’ll do the spells.” She kissed Willow quickly and sprang out of her chair. “Come on, Blondie. Don’t got time for napping.”

Tara wasn’t napping; she was wide awake and living in a nightmare. “Wh-what ab-bout Buffy?”

“B’s fine.” Faith didn’t share Tara’s concern. She rocked impatiently near the door. “Let’s go. I wanna get Ethan’s goons outta the way.”

Common sense said Faith was right. Still, Tara hesitated. She needed to know Buffy was safe.

“Go on,” Willow said softly. She smiled and shrugged when Tara glanced at her in surprise. “You have to go. You’re a Scooby now. The rest…” Her eyes flickered to Faith before coming to rest on Tara again. “Everyone has a job, Tara. We trust each other to do our parts.”

In other words, Buffy’s job was to get the camera – and Tara’s was to set the wards and cast the glamours. She had to trust Buffy to come back alive. Standing and walking toward Faith, she prayed more fervently than ever before.

“First things first, T. That hole needs to look like a floor.” Faith took off running the second they left the construction office, and Tara struggled to keep her in sight. Catching up was out of the question. “Hurry up. If Giles was right, the guys are gonna be there soon.”

Tara somehow found a little more speed. As she ran, she reached into Willow’s backpack and grabbed one of the small bottles nestled inside. “I n-need to be right next to wh-whatever you put over the hole,” Tara gasped out.

Faith nodded. “First stop’s right around the corner.” Her speed slackened and she hugged the wall, gesturing for Tara to join her. “When we get closer, I’m gonna check the coast is clear. Stay put until I tell ya’ to move.” Glaring at Tara as if waiting for a complaint, Faith slowed further. “I don’t hear nothin’. Anything on the witchy radar?”

Since leaving campus, Tara had kept her shields up. She didn’t want to lower them now. She did, though. They had to know if Ethan was nearby. Pulling her internal walls down by inches, she peeked hesitantly over the top.

The narrow view showed nothing. Only the electrical tingles of normal, ambient energy brushed across her senses.

Growing bolder, Tara probed farther. The tingles grew to a teeth-chattering buzz. “He’s h-here,” she whispered, shields slamming closed. “N-not ar-round the c-corner; in the sc-chool, though.” The knowledge rattled her confidence in their plan. Her palms grew slick with sweat where they gripped the nylon strap of Willow’s backpack.

“Good.” Faith slipped a dagger out of her belt. “I’ll be right back.” In a heartbeat, she disappeared into the gloom ahead.

Tara hated waiting. She _really_ hated waiting alone, in the dark, while Ethan Rayne was hunting. The darkness closed in, still and stifling. Tara bit her lip and squinted. Was that movement ahead? “Faith?” she called softly, creeping a few steps closer to the end of the hallway. “Faith?”

No one answered her.

Now Tara realized why Willow was so bad at following orders. Staying behind sucked. She had to force herself to stop moving. She reached back into the backpack and pulled out the bottle for the spell. To keep her mind occupied on something _other_ than shadows, Tara mentally practiced the incantation she’d need for the glamour.

“T, we gotta go. Now!” Faith appeared out of nowhere, nearly scaring a shriek from Tara. “Three of them soldiers is coming down the hall.”

"I’m ready,” Tara vowed, even though she wanted to run back to the construction office.

Faith gripped her arm and pulled her around the corner. Dim light flickered over the floor and walls farther down the connecting corridor, and Tara heard soft, erratic footfalls. That must be the soldiers.

“This is as close as I can get ya’,” Faith almost breathed in Tara’s ear. “Can’t risk gettin’ too close and fallin’ in…”

The comment wasn’t funny. Still, Tara fought a completely inappropriate giggle. She sucked in a deep breath and unstoppered the perfume bottle. “I can do this.” She could. And there was no more time to waste before proving it. Closing her eyes, Tara blocked out the faint sound of Faith’s breathing and slowed the pounding of her own heart with a skill born of long practice – and desperate need. Calm replaced her lingering dread and fear.

“I hail to the West and the forces of water,” she began, pouring the first drop of potion onto the floor. “Hear and aid me in this magic tonight.”

Another drop landed as Tara began the second cantrip. The words, however, were not the most important part of the spell. They were only an invocation, a plea for help in building an image. It was the image that left Tara shaking with effort.

Tan tiles fanned out in an interlocking pattern. Tara couldn’t see the tarp covering the hole so she let the image overlay the entire area.

“They’re comin’, T. Finish up!” Faith had moved; she was no longer standing at Tara’s shoulder. Her voice floated out of the darkness.

“By the powers of the West and the forces of water, I charge this place to remain, as I See.” Sweat trickled down the side of Tara’s face as she opened the door to her energy reservoir, borrowing more heavily for the last part of the spell. The tiles wavered for a second then firmed. “So mote it be.” The flash of light blinded Tara; though it wouldn’t be visible to Faith or the soldiers. Blinking dazedly, she turned and said, “It’s finished.”

“’Bout fuckin’ time.” Faith shoved Tara back down the hallway. “Any longer and we’da been there when the Goon Squad got there.”

Tara didn’t bother to point out that they would have been safe because of the hole separating them from the soldiers. Instead, she stayed silent and ran, chasing Faith down another dark and littered hallway.


	44. Chapter 44

Faith didn’t leave Tara behind as they ran this time. Instead, she gripped Tara’s arm and dragged her down the hallway. It was almost like flying. Tara was sure her feet barely touched the ground as they passed numerous dark classrooms and ascended a set of stairs.

“Me and B got a recording of her voice in one of the freezers in the kitchen.” Tara heard the evil smile in Faith’s voice. “Can you do somethin’ like you did with the tiles? I ain’t sure even Riley’s dumb enough to go runnin’ in just ‘cause he hears B.” Faith never slowed as they continued along yet another hallway.

Sucking in air, Tara managed to gasp. “I c-can do one m-more glamour.” They’d only managed to find enough ingredients for two.  “And t-two wards, like in the lab.” If Tara’s strength held. Her personal magical stores were low; she’d used those trying to protect herself and Buffy with the mirror spell, and replenishing from nearby ley lines was difficult while running. If only Scooby life wasn’t so new – and so out of control – she might have thought to do it while they’d been in the construction office doing nothing more strenuous than reading Professor Walsh’s files.

“Didn’t Red have more in that bag? She’s normally got it crammed full of shit,” Faith said as she helped Tara over a fallen row of lockers.

Shit was right, but Tara was too polite to say it out loud.

Luckily, Faith didn’t seem to expect a response.  “It’ll have to…” Stopping abruptly, she tilted her head to the right.

Tara froze in place, caught by Faith’s intense concentration. Something wasn’t right.

Something, in fact, was very, very wrong. As Faith resumed moving, rotating her body in a slow circle, Tara felt a light brush on her shields. Oh, Goddess. Ethan. Tara huddled deeper behind those protective barriers, afraid to breathe.

Seconds later, a second touch probed at her mind.

***

Buffy wasn’t planning to waste time. Instead of sticking to the sidewalks, she left the Science Wing and cut diagonally across the quad. God, she was tired. The rest of the crew had to be close to collapsing. Willow had certainly looked ready to pass out in the office, and Tara…

Tara.

Without conscious thought, Buffy slowed down. Why was Tara still here? She had every reason to leave; to tell Buffy that she was through. Or worse, to pretend to be part of the Scooby gang and then put a magical neon sign over Buffy’s head for Ethan to find.

Slowing further, Buffy realized she was still doing it. Still treating Tara the way she had at Hemery. Tara was a _good_ person. Turning Buffy and her friends over to the monster Walsh had created wasn’t something she’d ever do. Instead, Tara would hang around, risking almost certain death, to help stop Walsh’s evil plan.

To help Buffy.

Buffy smiled. Tara had stayed to help _her_. No one had ever done that before. Well, Willow was still in Sunnydale, but her decision had more to do with Faith than Buffy – no matter what she said. Giles and Joyce didn’t count. They _had_ to stay. Giles because it was his job, and Joyce because she was Buffy’s mother.

Tara was here because she wanted to stay. She wanted to help Buffy.

It was suddenly even more important that they beat Ethan and Walsh. Buffy began running again, tapping into Slayer speed so she was a blur across campus. No matter what, she’d keep Tara…the gang safe. Buffy was so focused on speed she didn’t see the group of soldiers until she was right on top of them.

Narrow, bug-like goggles swung her way, along with the tips of several very large machine guns. “It’s her!” one of them uttered. At least, Buffy thought he talked. It was hard to see his lips move through the mask he wore under the goggles.

Recovering quickly, Buffy waved and smiled. “Hi! You look lost. Can I give you a tour?” Then, before the guns could do more than hover in front of her face, she grabbed the tip of one and squeezed. It flattened immediately, and Buffy moved on. She repeated the mashing on a second then yanked another away from its owner and bent the metal in half. The newly reformed weapon made an effective, if short, staff. Buffy swung it with both hands, sweeping the final two machine guns out of the hands of their users.

As they watched in goggle-eyed amazement, Buffy posed with hands on hips. “You don’t want a tour? But it’s such a nice school. There are only a few holes in the floor…” It was fun to tease; however, Buffy needed to be somewhere else. Now that the soldiers were unarmed and no longer a threat, she waded in – with fists, not her metal staff.

“Enjoy the nap, boys. Wish I could take one, too,” she told the pile of unconscious bodies left in her wake. The stakes were even higher now. Buffy used her enhanced speed and senses consciously this time as she resumed her journey toward the Administration Wing. Where there was one group of baddies, there was probably more. She didn’t want to be surprised again.

Nothing showed up on her senses, though. Whatever forces Walsh’s crew had mustered didn’t include the supernatural. She couldn’t even feel Ethan, and he _had_ to be nearby. God, she hated running into danger blind. After all the years of demon fighting, surely Buffy had earned a few perks.

The crackle of another unseen radio said otherwise. Buffy slowed as she rounded the side of the main building. Faint footfalls sounded ahead.

“Damn.” Just short of stomping in frustration, Buffy slipped behind a stand of scraggly bushes. She’d have to do this another way. She engaged Slayer Stealth Mode and crept toward the noises. As expected, a new group of soldiers stood in a single-file row next to the double doors leading into the building. They were linked by one hand pressed to the shoulder of the man in front. “Too bad I don’t have a bowling ball.” They’d go down in a clump.

Since that wasn’t an option, and the strung out posture would make it hard to repeat the gun-crushing technique, Buffy had to let them go. She’d have to trust the booby traps she and Faith had set. It was hard, though, to creep cravenly away. Buffy didn’t have to be too much like Faith to enjoy a good brawl. Staying alive had never seemed so…well, so cowardly.

Buffy detoured, retracing her steps and running for the opposite side of the building. Her original plan had been to grab the camera next to the main building. Thanks to Walsh’s goons, that was out. She should have known having a plan was a bad idea.

The next closest camera was in the locker room. Great, now Buffy needed to be thankful Snyder had been a pervert.

Taking more care than before, Buffy maintained her speed but kept to the shadows and the sides of the buildings. She paused frequently to listen and look. There weren’t any new groups of soldiers; at least, none she could see. Buffy didn’t believe for a minute that the two groups were the only ones, though. Walsh had had an entire underground hideout.

She was sweating and every nerve ending was on edge by the time the towering two-story gym and its row of clerestory windows loomed ahead. The slight sounds of insects in the bushes and the occasional rustle of leaves made Buffy jump and reach for her stakes. Setting her jaw, she determinedly completed her journey. The only way into the locker room without going through the main school was through a window (and not even Slayer skills would help with a jump that high) or through a maintenance entrance. At least the locked door was easy to open.

With a single twist of her wrist, Buffy broke the lock. The gym was lit better than the kitchen or hallways. Moon and starlight filtered through the windows and Buffy crept across the wood floor, wincing as her tennis shoes squeaked. Without the bulk of the bleachers and the basketball goals marking the ends, the large space seemed endless. Only the need for stealth kept Buffy’s pace slow and cautious. She wanted to run. She _needed_ to run. Her breathing sounded like hurricane-force gusts of wind.  Finally, after an eternity and a million steps, Buffy reached the girls’ locker room.

The girls’. Not the boys’. Snyder’s creep factor continued far after his death.

Scents of the past assailed Buffy as she pushed open the door and went inside. Chlorine. Bleach. Sweat. Not even a bomb and massive reconstruction efforts could get those out of the concrete floors and metal lockers. Wrinkling her nose against the stench, Buffy paused to let her eyes adjust to the deeper gloom.

Little by little, Buffy began to see details of the room. Lockers and sturdy changing benches ran in neat rows throughout the room. Cheap venetian blinds hung haphazardly from the windows of the tiny coaching office. And, cleverly camouflaged by a dilapidated Razorback statuette sitting on a wall shelf near the ceiling, was the camera. Buffy hopped onto a bench and clambered onto the nearby lockers.

Crunching metal and the thud of her footsteps might have woken the dead. If the soldiers were in the building, they’d have to be deaf not to know where Buffy was now. Buffy gave up on stealth. She gripped the camera at the base and wrenched it from the mooring plate. Trophy in hand, she jumped to the floor and took off using every last bit of her enhanced speed.

The gym, the quad… They whipped by as Buffy made her way back to the construction office. She never slowed or paused; she did take enough care to avoid the areas where she’d left the soldiers. “Will,” she gasped out, sliding to a halt in the construction office. “Do your thing with the camera.”

Willow stared at her in incomprehension.

“Camera. Ethan. You said it could turn him off.” Hoping for help, Buffy peered at her mother and Giles. “Come on, guys. Walsh’s goons are out there, and we’re running out of time!”

Her words stirred everyone to action. Willow snatched the camera out of Buffy’s hands, nimble fingers prying at the metal casing. Giles and Joyce hurried around blowing out candles and grabbing up weapons.

It was the perfect time for Walsh. “I don’t know why you bother. You are no match for what we’ve created. Ethan Rayne was a pathetic man who believed he was powerful. I’ve _made_ him more powerful than he could have imagined. Than _you_ can imagine.”

Walsh was wrong. Buffy had a very good imagination, thanks to years fighting evil. “Shut up!” Her voice was harsh; it betrayed her fear and anger. Betrayed her to Walsh, who smirked. Buffy wanted to turn away – and didn’t. She was _not_ going to let Walsh control her again. Deliberately keeping her eyes on Willow, Buffy said softly, “Can you do it? Use the camera to stop Ethan?” Please, she added silently.

“I got the information off the internet, Buffy. It’s unreliable at best. Maybe I can stop Ethan.” Willow didn’t meet Buffy’s eyes. She continued to strip the camera apart. “Or I’ll hook the battery I stole out of the clock on the foreman’s desk up to Snyder’s camera and we’ll get nothing more than a spark.”

Buffy’s knees felt weak. A spark? She’d grabbed the camera for a spark? She pushed back the panic, remembering her earlier conversation with Faith about Willow’s stress levels. “Well, if that’s what we get, maybe it’ll be enough to set Ethan’s hair on fire. I never did like that slicked back look, you know?” She tried to smile and then stopped. It felt too wrong to be reassuring to anyone. “Besides, we have more to worry about than one of Walsh’s toys. I took out one group of soldiers on the way to the gym. And…” Did Buffy really have to admit she’d run away from the other group?

“Indeed.” Giles cut in before Buffy made her embarrassing admission. “Just after your departure, I glimpsed a group on the monitors. Faith and Tara have gone to set the wards. I believe we shall have to be ready for Ethan to arrive soon.”

If Buffy had felt bad about her actions outside, she felt even worse now. Not to mention suddenly very scared. Tara was out there with all of Walsh’s troops hunting for them. “I’ll go make sure Tara’s safe,” she said.

“No, you won’t,” Willow answered. “My girlfriend isn’t going to let anything happen to them.” Even focused on her role as MacGyver, she got Buffy’s attention. “Faith is a Slayer, just like you. Stop acting like you’re the only one.”


	45. Chapter 45

Willow’s comment was harsh – yet not undeserved. “Right. Sorry.” Not quite sure what to do, Buffy rocked on her heels and examined the room. If Giles was right, they’d have to be ready to fight off Walsh’s army. What did they have?

The duffel of weapons rested on the couch along the far wall. Buffy and Faith had removed most of the smaller items like daggers and stakes. That left the crossbow and a couple swords. “Mom.” Ignoring her own internal reluctance, Buffy waved Joyce toward the duffel. “I think it’s time for a little Killing 101.”

“Wonderful, honey. I was thinking just last week I could use a new skill in case the gallery folds.” Joyce smiled brightly, the false cheer a sure indicator of her unease.

“I don’t think you can add this to your resume,” Buffy warned. She trotted across the room and dug out the crossbow and bolts. “Remember when you played cops and robbers with me when I was little?”

Joyce’s eyebrows rose.

Buffy saw the sign and snapped a hand up. “Don’t go there. Just don’t.” Glowering until those eyebrows (and the guarantee of teasing) lowered, she continued. “Using a crossbow is like shooting that Super Soaker water gun. Pull back the string.” The well-oiled machinery took only a light tug to nestle the bowstring into place as she demonstrated. “Point at the target.” Buffy raised the bow and peered along the sight. “Pull the trigger.”

A click prefaced the sound of a bolt whipping through the air. Less than a second later, a bolt pierced the wall behind Walsh’s head.

“You try.” Buffy pressed the weapon into her mother’s hands.

Joyce wasn’t as adept. She struggled to nock the bowstring. Finally, as Buffy reluctantly moved to help, Joyce managed the maneuver. “Got it. That wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be,” she said, in defiance of her troubles. She repeated Buffy’s move, raising the weapon and aiming at the wall.

“Good shot, Joyce.” Giles was the first to congratulate Joyce’s shot as the bolt took a spot barely a hands span from Buffy’s. “I daresay we know where Buffy comes by her extraordinary talent.”

For a moment, Buffy wanted to throw up. Could Giles _be_ more obvious? It was sickening. She clamped down on the urge, though. “Looks like you’re good to go, Mom. When the fighting starts, hang out in the back and pick off anything not a Scooby.” She very carefully avoided the issue of their targets’ humanity. Joyce could probably hit where she aimed; a kill shot, however, would hopefully take more skill than Joyce possessed.

“What shall I do?” Giles gestured at the weapons bag. “Did you bring more than one bow, perhaps?”

“Nope. We’re all out of firepower. You’ve got your choice of…” Buffy rummaged through the bag. “Swords.” The two she’d dragged from Faith’s apartment leaned against the foreman’s desk where she’d left them earlier. “Sais or a few stakes and daggers. When I packed, I wasn’t really planning for a siege.” At that, Buffy wanted to throw the bag across the room. She’d known the situation was likely to get ugly and she hadn’t thought about arming the rest of the crew. If they made it out of this alive, she silently swore to pay more attention to Giles’ lectures on strategy.

“I daresay I am better off not getting close enough for real hand to hand,” Giles stated. He stood and picked up one of the swords, examining the edge as if visually verifying its sharpness.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “If that’s what you’re planning to use, you’re better off hiding behind a desk. These guys have guns. Wanna bet they’ll shoot you before you even manage to life the sword point off the ground?” She tossed a dagger and a pair of sais in Giles’ direction. “Use these. At least you can throw them. You were pretty good at that when you and Wes had that contest last year.”

Giles’ blush was a riot. “Thank you, my dear. I didn’t think you’d noticed.” He slipped the blade under his belt and set the sais on the desk in front of him. “Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”

All of Buffy’s humor drained away. “The same thing I try to do: stay alive.” It was the best advice she could offer. Unless Willow’s jury-rigged Ethan jammer worked, they were out of options.

Or were they?

Right now, the soldiers and Ethan held all the cards, with the exception of the few traps she and Faith had set. The Scooby gang was splintered, Buffy’s tiny crew trapped inside the construction office. Faith and Tara were alone inside the school. Alone. Willow’s earlier reminder of Faith’s Slayer status didn’t alleviate Buffy’s fear. She was the better fighter; she had far more experience than Faith. _She_ should be there, keeping Tara safe. Not sitting in this office, waiting for Riley and his friends to show up.

Waiting sucked. Buffy wanted…needed to be actively doing something, but there wasn’t anything but more waiting. Or was there? Maybe there was _one_ thing Buffy could use to even the odds.

Without bothering to explain her actions, she strode across the room and grabbed the back of Walsh’s chair. “Time for you to do something useful, Doc,” Buffy announced. Tilting the chair, she began dragging it across the room. “When your bullet-happy goons show up, they’ll be aiming – and firing – at you first.”

***

Hiding behind her barriers wasn’t doing any good. Tara felt Ethan probing deeper and deeper into her mind. “Faith!” she whispered urgently. “We have to get out of here now!” She didn’t know what Ethan would do once he breached her shields, but she was sure it wouldn’t be good.

“Not until we make sure that last trap works, T.” Faith’s expression was resolute. “Come on. There’s another way to the kitchen.” Gripping Tara’s arm again, she ran back the way they’d come before veering off into a new hallway. “Found this one day when I was avoidin’ Snyder,” she explained in a low voice as Tara struggled to keep up. “One of the closet’s is got a trash chute that drops ya’ off in the kitchen dumpster.”

A dumpster? Was Faith kidding? “Faith…” Tara started to ask and then broke off. It might be a dirty, bumpy ride; it was still better than facing Ethan and whoever he’d brought with him. “OK,” she agreed. She even managed a little more speed despite her labored breathing and the stitch in her side.

The run seemed to take forever – like every other run since she’d become a Scooby.  Tara repeated her vow to get into shape as they reached their destination and Faith wrenched open a seemingly normal janitor’s closet. Inside, though, was the promised chute. “You first.

“But,” Tara said immediately. The grim expression on Faith’s faced stopped the protest before it could get farther. There was no place to climb up. Was she supposed to go head first? Slayer senses weren’t required to hear the sound of pursuit. “Bend your leg.” Not even a hint of stutter marred the terse command. Placing her left foot on Faith’s obligingly offered knee, Tara stepped up. Her right foot slid down the metal chute until she was partially sitting, and Tara was very happy for the darkness. It hid the grime. “Wish me luck,” she mumbled before swinging her left leg around.

It took only a second before gravity took over. Tara’s stomach dropped along with her body. She picked up speed and prayed. Until that very moment, she hadn’t thought of the possibility that the dumpster could be missing since the school was closed.

The Goddess must have been waiting to hear from Tara. With a sickening drop, Tara ended her wild ride with a soft thump. She scrambled to the left to clear a path for Faith just in time. A soft curse announced Faith’s arrival.

“Last time we fucking do that.” Faith’s hand gripped Tara’s arm in the darkness. “Come on. We got to hurry. I heard one of them soldiers talkin’ upstairs. They musta spotted something and are headin’ for the office. “

Tara didn’t resist as Faith helped her over the edge of the dumpster. “I c-can’t do the glamour,” she warned urgently. “Eth-than’s here.”

“No problem, T. We ain’t got time anyway.” Faith was pressed against Tara now, steering her through the kitchen. “Gotta help the gang.” Her voice was tight; it was the first indication that things weren’t going well. “In fact, I’m done playin’ nice.”

What did Faith have in mind? Tara wondered worriedly. Letting a group of the soldiers fall into the traps upstairs or locking them in a freezer wasn’t particularly kind, in her mind. “F-Faith?” she asked hesitantly.  Whatever Faith was planning, Tara knew she could do nothing more than try to talk her out of it.

The hand on Tara’s arm urged her forward with more speed. “Good thing you got me,” Faith mumbled. “The princess is good in a fight, but she ain’t got my skills.” The explanation didn’t make Tara feel less confused as they approached the loading dock and the two cars parked there. “Hop in.”

Tara didn’t move. “What?”

“Get in the damned Jeep!” Even though Faith was little more than a black figure against the dark, Tara could easily imagine her scowl. “There’re too many guys with guns. We can’t risk runnin’ into one of ‘em.”

“Sorry.” Feeling her face burn with a mercifully hidden blush, Tara held both hands in front of her in a search for Joyce’s SUV. It took a few minutes before she located it. As she moved carefully around to the far side, she heard Faith open the driver’s door.

The engine roared to life as Tara finally touched the door handle. An instant later she blinked against the blaze of the headlights. In the illumination, she glimpsed Faith jump out and run to the dock door and yank it open. She climbed in, heart pounding, waiting only a second for Faith to rejoin her.

Faith put the Jeep into gear. “Hang on,” she said. It was a timely warning. Tara had just enough time to brace her feet against the floorboard when the vehicle lurched backward. They hit the ramp without slowing. Exhibiting amazing ability at the wheel, Faith spun the Jeep around. The tires squealed in protest and the vehicle slewed from side to side before stabilizing. They accelerated smoothly through the empty parking lot – and then jumped the curb and the sidewalk.

“I bet you c-colored outside the l-lines when you were little,” Tara said. She wished she’d had the foresight to put on her seatbelt. Faith ignored anything in their path. They’d already driven through a row of hedges. Bits of greenery clung to the windshield and stuck under the wipers.

Chuckling, Faith took one hand off the wheel and pointed at Tara. “Don’t tell Red. She gets all freaky ‘bout things like that.”

Tara was going to get freaky if that hand didn’t go back on the wheel soon. She watched it closely, relaxing only when Faith returned all of her attention (and limbs) to the task of driving. Her focus meant she didn’t notice the line of camouflaged men in front of them. Didn’t have time to worry about the guns pointing in their direction.

A soft pop distracted her. It was followed closely by a louder explosion and glass rained onto the dashboard and seats. Tara screamed, shrinking away from the sudden hole in the seat next to her.

Faith, on the other hand, remained stonily silent. The Jeep’s engine roared and they barreled toward the soldiers.  The line held. And held. Tara reached for Faith. They had to stop. She wasn’t going to let Faith run the men down, even if they _had_ shot at them.

At the last second, two of the men broke formation and dove out of the way. The Jeep sailed past the rest and kept going. Now that Faith had the SUV at full steam, she appeared determined to get them to the construction office without any more disruptions. Unfortunately, the soldiers hadn’t really been deterred by Faith’s tactics.

Gunfire chattered behind them and the Jeep jerked to one side. “Son of a bitch!” Faith wrestled with the steering wheel as the Jeep shuddered and slowed. “When I tell you, get out and run.”

Staring across the seat, Tara tried to understand. Run? With all those guns out there?

Turning her head, Faith stared back for a heartbeat. “We’ll use the Jeep for cover. I’ll be right behind ya’.” She turned the wheel hard to the left and then stepped on the brake. Grass and flowers flew up, illuminated by the headlights. “Go! Now!”


	46. Chapter 46

Tara jumped from the Jeep as if all the hordes of Hell were after her. Unfortunately, hitting the ground didn’t mean she sprinted away to safety. The whole maneuver resembled a particularly bad nightmare. She ran – or she intended to. It was as if she slogged through quicksand. Legs and arms pumping, Tara fought her way across the grass with Faith shoving her from behind.

The gunfire had stopped. Either that, or Tara couldn’t hear it over her labored breathing. Why weren’t the soldiers shooting at them anymore? And why (now Tara wondered if she’d gone mad) did she care? No bullets was _good_ news.

It soon became clear that guns weren’t a requirement any longer. “Son of a bitch!” Faith’s hand fell away from Tara’s shoulder and her body heat no longer warmed Tara’s side. “Keep runnin’, T. The boys need help rememberin’ about Slayers.”

Oh, Goddess. Tara slowed without thinking. She wasn’t letting Faith face off with the soldiers alone. By the time she turned and retraced her steps, though, she was too late. Faith had closed with the first pair of uniformed and armed men.

A sharp report coincided with Faith’s cry of pain. She went down to one knee, a hand pressed to her left shoulder.

Bile choked Tara and she swayed, lightheaded. “Stop!” she screamed uselessly. The shooter moved toward Faith and more soldiers converged until they formed a tense, wary semi-circle around the downed Slayer. Tara watched impotently as one of them waved the muzzle of his gun in a clear “stand up” gesture. The wave became more emphatic when Faith remained on the ground. Even in the wash of diffused illumination provided by the Jeep’s headlights, the blood welling under Faith’s hand was visible.

Tara silently pleaded with Faith to follow the soldier’s order. Her inner voice grew to an unspoken yet shrill scream before the other girl stood. The group of soldiers moved closer, herding Faith toward Tara.

“You! Let’s go!” Face hidden by a camouflaged cloth mask, the lead soldier’s voice seemed to emanate from thin air.

Ducking her head, unable to glance in Faith’s direction, Tara crept in the direction indicated by the muzzle of a machine gun. Dear Goddess. What was going to happen now? With each step, her fear multiplied. There were too many soldiers for Faith to fight – even if they weren’t armed. Tara couldn’t risk magic; Ethan’s power pounded at her wavering shields. Her feet became leaden, and her mind fogged with defeat. By the time their group re-entered the main building, Tara was numb. So numb she didn’t see the thin, smirking man waiting for them in the shadows of a classroom doorway.

“Ah, the little witch. Not the one I was looking for, I’m afraid, but I can deal with the disappointment,” Ethan murmured.

Tara flinched in automatic reaction when Ethan reached out with hand and mind.

The attempt to avoid his touch was fruitless on both counts. His cool palm pressed to her right cheek as his magic drilled a hole through her shields. _Such purity,_ Ethan whispered in the recesses of Tara’s mind. Dark tendrils of power slithered and twisted their way into Tara’s channels. _How sweet. Too bad I don’t have time to enjoy you, my dear, but I have bigger game in mind._

***

Walsh and Englemann sat in front of the door. Willow had finished her work on the camera and stared at the computer monitor. Giles and Joyce stood shoulder to shoulder, crossbow and sais in hand, behind the foreman’s desk.

They were ready, yet Buffy wasn’t happy. Not even the slightest bit relieved. Something was wrong; it had to be. There hadn’t been a sound from the Duo since Walsh grumbled at being unceremoniously dragged to her current position, and Ethan and his cronies hadn’t rushed the office. The whole thing made Buffy’s skin crawl. Damn it! Why couldn’t this be like a normal night on the job? At least vampires and demons understood the rules. If you had the Slayer trapped in a tiny room, you rushed in with fangs or whatever flashing. You didn’t hide out and wait for her to implode with tension. “What’s he _waiting_ for?” Buffy snapped without turning her head to look at Giles. If she did, he’d see the misplaced blame for their situation in her eyes.

“Calm yourself. This display of the vapors will not solve anything.” Great. Giles was feeling the strain, too. He only sounded that British when he thought things might be hopeless these days. “Once Faith and Tara return, we can use their intelligence to formulate a plan of action.”

 _If_ they returned. The waiting, the lack of a plan, the thought of Tara…of Tara and Faith in the school with Ethan and soldiers turned Buffy into a true pessimist. She brooded and paced while Willow and Giles whispered to each other and pointed at the computer. The sound of their voices was like a drill against Buffy’s head; it dug a little deeper with each passing second. She wanted to scream at them to stop. Hanging onto her self control with a death grip, Buffy stalked to the desk and peered over Willow’s shoulder, opposite Giles. “Something wrong?”

“I lost track of Faith and Tara,” Willow answered. “They were right there, in the hallway by Mr. Danver’s room, and then…poof!”

“Any sign of Walsh’s army or Ethan?” There were a limited number of explanations for the disappearance, and Buffy wasted no time on the non-dangerous ones. Leaning in closer, she stared at the grainy images. Nothing. No Faith. No Tara. No nothing. How was that possible? They’d been there before, and Buffy could vouch for Riley and Company’s presence on campus.

Impatience became adrenaline so fast it left Buffy lightheaded. “Will, could Ethan do something to the cameras?”

Maybe Faith was right. Slayers were built for action, not talking. Obviously, she hadn’t gotten her point across. Willow stared at Buffy with her brown creased in comical confusion. “Like have his guys destroy them? Sure. Or they could spray paint over the lenses. I saw that in some movie Faith made me watch. Die Hard or Die More, or something like that.”

“Ah, not exactly.” The more Buffy thought about things, the more she was certain Ethan was about to kick their butts. “I meant something magic-y. Could he make it look like nothing was out there? Hide where he and the soldiers are?”

Willow’s confusion disappeared. “I…I don’t know. It would take a _lot_ of power, Buffy.” Her eyes met Buffy’s, and it was easy to see the fear there. “And even more power to make sure Giles, Tara, and I couldn’t feel him doing it.” Standing abruptly, she grabbed Buffy’s arm and attempted to push her out of the way. “We have to go! We have to find Faith! If we can’t see Ethan and his goons – and now we can’t see Faith – it must mean he has her.”

Ethan had Faith. Worse, he had Faith _and_ Tara. Buffy wanted to charge from the room with stakes and knives flashing, but enough of Giles’ past lectures had penetrated. Buffy remained firmly in place and gently pried Willow’s hand from her arm. “Faith will be fine, Will. She’s a Slayer, remember?”

“Buffy!” Willow didn’t look happy that Buffy finally acknowledged Faith’s status and skills. In fact, she looked more than willing to flatten Buffy with a lightning bolt to get her out of the way.

Shaking her head, Buffy stood her ground. “No. We can’t go charging off. We don’t know where Ethan is or how many of Walsh’s flunkies are with him. And…” She hesitated, not wanting to play her final card. When Resolve Face made an appearance, though, Buffy ruthlessly suppressed her best friend emotions and continued. “If Tara couldn’t beat Ethan, Will, we wouldn’t stand a chance.” Willow jerked as if Buffy had slapped her. “Think.” Pressing Willow back into the desk chair, Buffy poured all the faux confidence and compassion she could muster into her appeal. “You’re camera thingie is the best bet we have to shut Ethan down. And we know the soldiers are coming here because of Walsh. If Ethan really is doing something to the cameras, we’d be sitting ducks outside. There are way more of them than us.”

It was a toss-up who appeared more shocked by Buffy’s comment: Willow or Giles. “Buffy is correct, Willow.” Recovering quickly, he gave her an approving smile and nod. “Indeed, we must make our stand here and trust that Faith and Tara are safe. Ethan will soon find that none of you girls is as helpless as he assumes.”

Buffy beamed at Giles’ approval and compliment – until Willow’s glare resumed and nearly set her hair on fire. “We stay, Will,” she said firmly, ignoring the Resolve Face. “Now, tell me what I can do to help with the Ethan Jammer. Does he have to hold it or can I just grab it and get close?”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Willow dropped her eyes and slumped over the laptop on the desk in front of her. “Ethan just has to show up. I hit the switch, the jammer hopefully turns on, and we kick his ass, collect my girlfriend, and go home.”

Simple and to the point. Buffy whole-heartedly approved, except for one detail. “Don’t forget Tara,” she reminded Willow. “We collect Faith _and_ Tara and then we go home.” No one said anything else and Buffy stifled a sigh. Rousing speeches and big plans aside, they were back to waiting. She resumed her earlier pacing, but kept her senses on high. Without the cameras to help them track Ethan’s progress, Buffy had to make sure he didn’t surprise them.

Pushing her limits was exhausting. Buffy finally stopped stalking back and forth and dropped onto the couch. This was pointless! She kicked her feet against the floor and started to relax just as a faint scuffling sound emanated from the hallway. Buffy was up in a flash, stake and sword in her hands. “Company’s coming,” she warned the rest of the gang. Ready to finally get to the action, she took up a position behind Walsh’s chair. “Looks like your freak show’s about to come to an end, Doc. I don’t think you’ll be doing any encores, though, just ducking tomatoes.”

Walsh snorted but didn’t say anything. For the first time since leaving the lab, she appeared resigned.

The hint that even Walsh knew the Scoobies would win boosted Buffy’s confidence. They could do this. They could beat Ethan again. The footsteps drew closer, and Buffy dropped into a defensive stance. “Hope you have your hand on the switch, Will,” she called out just loud enough to carry across the room. It was one pair of feet out there, and she was betting on Ethan.

Luckily, Buffy was in Sunnydale and not Las Vegas. Tara stumbled into the room and jerked to a halt. “Buffy!”

“Tara!” Echoing the greeting without thought, Buffy rushed around Walsh and Englemann, gently taking Tara by the arms. “Where’s Faith? Is everything OK? Did you see Ethan?” She fired questions off while she scanned Tara for obvious injuries.

“Faith is fine. We were…We saw a couple groups of soldiers, but Faith knew how to avoid them.” Stepping to one side, Tara shook off Buffy’s hands and walked farther into the room. “Faith stayed outside as a lookout, but she wanted me to check in with you. Are you ready? I don’t think Ethan will stay away much longer.”

It was amazing he’d left them alone for _this_ long. Buffy glanced toward the hallway. It was important to keep an eye on things, but she really wished Faith had come back, too. Willow was on edge. Teetering, actually. She’d stopped peering at the computer and now stared worriedly at the doorway. And, when the fighting broke out, they’d need Faith’s Slayer skills. Damn it. Buffy hated this feeling, hated knowing she’d overlooked some part of the plan. Faith wouldn’t have risked playing lookout if they’d talked about what to do after setting the last of the traps.

Oh, well. It was done. Buffy turned away from the door. “Were you able to set the glamours and wards, my dear?” Giles inquired. “Willow has discovered that Ethan somehow tampered with Principal Snyder’s cameras, and we are unable to track his movements through the school.”

“Sure, Giles. I did the wards,” Tara answered with a slight smile. “How about you guys? Are you set here? What did Willow come up with?”

“Nothing new,” Willow muttered without taking her eyes off the door.

For a split second, Tara’s face twisted in frustration and then her expression smoothed. “Oh. Do you need me to do anything? I could try a locator spell for Ethan, if you want.”

Earlier, Buffy had jokingly warned Tara that Slayer skills included a built-in lie detector. Her mental needle was busy recording crazy spikes and dips. “I thought you’d be tired after doing the glamour in the gym and main office?” Praying she was wrong, Buffy slowly slid her body between Willow and Tara. “Did you get eat a Power Pellet?”

Because she was now watching Tara closely, Buffy noticed how stiffly she stood. How her eyes darted around the room as if she were taking notes. “I just used the nodes and ley lines, Buffy. It’s easy to do and there is quite a lot of power because of the Hellmouth.”

“Quite a lot, huh? Wow.” Buffy didn’t dare glanced away to see if anyone else noticed the problem. She stared at Tara and remembered the way she’d looked at the mall in Los Angeles, in their briefly-shared room at UC-Sunnydale, in the kitchen as a less than modern-minded Buffy sprawled on top of her. “You’re good,” she said quietly to the man she now believed to be behind the curtain of Tara’s mind.

If Tara and her magic weren’t available, this fight would be over before it really started. Buffy returned Tara’s smile and did what she had always done in the face of overwhelming odds and certain defeat. She went on the offensive. “Will! Hit the switch now!”


	47. Chapter 47

Buffy didn’t turn to see if Willow followed her order. Uttering a silent apology to Tara, she pressed her sword tip under Tara’s chin. “I’m really tired of you,” Buffy said conversationally.

A mocking smile twisted Tara’s lips. “Are you now? Too bad you cannot do a thing to stop me.” Not even the threat of steel dimmed Ethan’s arrogance. He met Buffy’s glare and she flinched – because it was Tara staring at her with hatred burning in her blue eyes. “In fact, although I have enjoyed playing with you and Rupert, _I_ have grown exceedingly tired of _you._ ” Tara raised her hands in a series of tight jerks. Sweat stood out clearly on her face and dampened the hair of her bangs. “Ssalmani-ia ana pagri tapquida duppira…” The stutter was still missing, but Ethan/Tara’s delivery was anything except smooth. The words carried an odd cadence, moving fast, so fast the words stumbled together one minute and then turning comically slow and dragged out the next.

“Will!” Not daring to look behind her, Buffy changed her grip on the sword hilt. If the jammer didn’t work, she’d have to take matters into her own hands.

“I’m trying!” Willow’s response came as Buffy heard more footsteps in the hallway. They were out of time. “But it’s not working.”

Obviously not, since Tara was still chanting. God, Buffy didn’t want to hurt her; she just didn’t have a choice. Pulling the blade from Tara’s throat, she raised the sword. “I’m sorry.” Buffy tried to see past the evil blazing from Tara’s eyes. “Tara,” she pleaded one last time. Please don’t do this. Stop him.

A crossbow fired, followed immediately by another. Shouts of pain echoed in and out of the room. Walsh gave a loud cry of triumph.

Buffy heard them only dimly. Tara’s voice had steadied and smoothed. As she chanted, Buffy’s skin grew cold. So cold. The metal hilt amplified the chill against her palm until she opened her fingers in automatic reaction. “Tara.” Buffy was a California girl, born and bred. She’d never experienced snow except for one magical Christmas, but she recognized the warning signs of trouble as her muscles jumped and jerked in racking shivers. Her arms and legs felt leaden and uncooperative. The arm, still raised as if holding the sword, dropped to her side.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She’d known Ethan was too strong all along. He was just proving how pointless it was to fight back. Her eyes fluttered closed, snapped open, fluttered closed. She was so tired now. At least the cold had faded. In fact, Ethan must have stopped with the spell or turned on the heat because Buffy was toasty warm.  

“No!” Willow’s strident cry pulled Buffy from her torpor.

Tara was in a heap on the floor, blood seeping from her nostrils. What was happening? What had she missed? Was Tara…? Was she dead? Still dazed, Buffy looked frantically around the room. Three camo-clad bodies lay lifelessly near the doorway with crossbow bolts protruding from their chests. Two more soldiers – and their gun muzzles – peered cautiously around the doorjamb.

It was hard to focus. Whatever Ethan had done with the spell lingered; it mixed (badly) with an adrenaline rush and a need to jump into action. Buffy’s concentration bounced around like a pinball smacked by the flippers. She struggled to stay in the moment.

Ethan was gone, or at least no longer walking around in Tara’s body. Giles and Joyce were keeping the goons at bay. Now what? “Giles, we need to find a way…” Shattering glass interrupted her. A round black object (a ball?) rolled across the floor. Smoke snaked from one side.  Crap. Staggering forward, Buffy gripped the grenade and threw it toward the door.

It exploded halfway there, brilliant light blinding her as the room filled with a noxious fog. Buffy’s lungs burned. Her ears rang. “Down! On the ground!” The voice emanated from the dense white cloud. A single shot rang out and then the command was repeated. “Down! I want to see all of you on your knees, hands in the air!”

That wasn’t happening. Buffy had no plan to surrender again, except, her knees weren’t cooperating. They threatened to give out, thanks to Ethan and his stupid magic. She clenched her jaw and tightened all her muscles. The fog hadn’t thinned, but thankfully, Buffy was a Slayer. Blinking, she managed to make out a shadow sliding through the smoke and threw her stake.

A pained grunt prefaced the dull thud of a body hitting the ground.

Buffy grinned tightly. She wasn’t going down without a fight. The sword was easy to retrieve from the floor. So… She was armed and had a whole lot anger to work through. Crouching, she inched her way forward in the direction of the door. Buffy would take them out – and then go find their grenade-tossing buddies outside. She made it three steps before gunfire boomed and echoed in the hallway. Buffy dropped flat on the ground and began carefully crawling toward the desk. “Mom? Giles?” More gunfire drowned out her shaky “Will?”

Three equally shaky replies answered. “What about Tara?” Willow whispered just loud enough for Buffy’s enhanced hearing to pick up. “Is she OK? Something happened when I turned on the jammer signal.”

Tara. Hurriedly changing direction, Buffy slithered toward Tara’s still form. The other girl still hadn’t moved. She lay deathly still on the floor. Oh, God. Reaching out, Buffy pressed a hand to Tara’s neck – and blinked by tears of relief when a barely-detectible and thready pulse beat beneath her fingertips. “I think so,” she called back.

It grew strangely quiet in the room as Buffy gently stroked Tara’s neck and cheek. No more gunfire or shouted orders. No more explosions. She checked Tara’s pulse one last time (still there) and then stood. The smoke was clearing. Buffy could clearly see Walsh and Englemann and the body of a soldier down right inside the doorway. A stake protruded from his chest.

Her stake.

Swallowing against sudden nausea at the dark red stain on the man’s uniform and the floor beneath his body, she crept toward the door. Nothing moved. The air felt alive with energy – or tension. Buffy wasn’t sure. The only certainty in her mind revolved around the knowledge that something wasn’t right. Again. Where was the rest of Walsh’s army? She’d only taken out one of the two lurking in the hallway. Add in the three Giles and her mom had killed…

Buffy’s mental math faltered. The soldiers hadn’t turned to dust. They hadn’t been dead. They’d been _alive_. It was real blood on the floor, and she was responsible. The room wavered under her feet, but Buffy couldn’t blame Ethan or magic for her fuzzy head. Or the cold sweat on her body or the sudden urge to vomit. Averting her eyes, Buffy completed the tally of bodies. Simple addition said four soldiers were out of the fight. That left at least one in the hallway. All of the grenade throwers from outside. And who knew how many more. The underground facility had been massive.

She continued her journey to the door and paused. Her sword versus a gun still wasn’t good odds.

“Buf!” Willow’s triumphant cry was shockingly loud. Buffy spun so fast she stumbled over one of the dead soldiers. “The cameras are working again.”

The words blended with the thundering beat of Buffy’s increased heart rate, and it took a second for their meaning to penetrate. The cameras. Working. “What do you see? Are there more soldiers? Where’s Faith? Ethan?” She fired the questions off in a rush and then remembered that the cameras might not protect her if her headcount had been correct.

There had been one more gunman at the door. She’d seen _two_ muzzles, not just one.

When Willow’s eyes widened and she gasped suddenly, Buffy froze.  For the second time that night, a deep voice said, “Nobody move! Not one fucking inch.”

That might be hard to accomplish. Buffy’s heart pounded so fiercely it shook her entire body. She tried to steady herself; fought to slow her breathing; struggled to find a way out of this latest mess. Unfortunately, she was all out of last-minute heroics. The soft squeak of rubber on the floor indicated the soldier had advanced into the room.

Years as a Slayer identified the soft, sharp slide of a blade leaving a scabbard. Closing her eyes on Willow’s panic, Buffy imagined each of the soldier’s next moves by sound alone. Cut the plastic bags on Walsh or Englemann’s wrists. Hand over the knife. Let the now-freed member of the pair help the other loose. The scene was so clear.

If Buffy didn’t do something right now…

Praying the soldier was distracted as he helped Walsh, Buffy tensed and prepared to move. She opened her eyes and sucked in a slow, deep breath. This was it. Right here. Right now.

 _One_. The internal count helped Buffy focus.

 _Two._ All she had to do was spin and jump into the last remaining soldier. And avoid getting shot. Simple.

 _Three._ With a hoarse scream of defiance, Buffy put her internal plan into action. She pivoted flawlessly on her left heel. As if she’d practiced the maneuver a thousand times, she threw herself across the room.

The soldier raised his arms. Buffy saw his finger twitch on the trigger.

No sharp crack announced he’d fired. No bullets slammed into her body. In fact… Buffy crashed into the man without incident and they tumbled to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. The gun clattered to the floor next to them. Taking advantage of the situation, Buffy slammed the heel of her hand into the man’s ribs, listening to the crunch of bones with satisfaction. She untangled and rolled to her feet in the next instant and took a defensive crouch. This was going to be a very short fight or she wasn’t the best Slayer on the block.

But the soldier never moved. He lay where Buffy had left him, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Fuck, B. Never thought you’d hit a guy after he was down. Don’t seem real nice,” Faith commented from the doorway. Her chuckle seemed forced, and Buffy finally tore her gaze away from the (now that she’d looked closely) dead man on the floor to see Faith leaning heavily against the doorjamb. “I always knew that Nice Slayer shit was a lie.”

Buffy stared, still too stunned over the last few minutes to feel much insult at the comments. Then Willow streaked by. “What happened? Why are you bleeding?” And Buffy’s numbness wore off.

God, Faith _was_ bleeding, and not just a little. Her jean jacket was dark at the shoulder, and more blood streaked the front placket and Faith’s hands. Buffy took a step in their direction then stopped. What if Ethan had recovered from the jammer? What if there were more soldiers? She resumed her walk across the room with less speed and more caution. “What happened out there?”

“Red’s toy kicked ass.” Leaning on Willow, Faith set a intercepting course with Buffy. “Ethan dropped like a rock ‘bout ten minutes ago. Freaked the rest of the boys out, and they forgot to keep an eye on the Big Bad Slayer.” Her grin was all teeth and dimples. “So I reminded ‘em why they needed all the guns in the first place.”

Reaching out with a free hand to clear Buffy from their path, Willow murmured an approving, “I keep telling you how good you are.” The comment made Buffy want to gag – but Willow had a point. Faith had done an amazing job and had probably saved all their lives. “Is that when you got shot?”

It was a story Buffy wanted to hear, too. Just not now. Tuning out Faith’s continued boasts, she ducked out of the office and peered up and down the hall. There were more bodies here. Unconscious probably since there was no blood or obvious wounds. There was also no sigh of the Duo. Walsh and Englemann had gotten away.

Buffy couldn’t raise even a modicum of interest. Things at least seemed fine for now. They needed to make a run for it while the coast was clear.

“Let’s go.” Buffy’s blunt announcement garnered disbelieving looks and absolutely no movement. “I mean it. Giles, Mom, get everything packed up. Will, you help Faith.” Even in a hurry, Buffy was smart enough to know it would be impossible to separate the two of them with Faith wounded. “I’ll take care of Tara.”

Too slowly for Buffy’s liking, the gang began their assigned tasks. Giles stacked the few remaining weapons into the duffel while Joyce gathered trash. Willow and Faith staggered to the desk for her laptop. Breathing a little easier, Buffy knelt at Tara’s side. Only the faint rise and fall of the other girl’s chest indicated she was alive. Her skin was ghostly pale and her face was creased with some horrific emotion even in unconsciousness.

Gently, Buffy shook Tara’s shoulder. “Tara?” A slight change in breathing pattern was the only response. Fantastic. “Tara!” This time, Buffy shook with a little more force.

“Ohhh!” With a moan, Tara flinched away, and Buffy dropped her hand as if burned. When Tara opened her eyes, the pupils were pinpricks. Guilt squeezed her chest when she saw blood begin trickling from Tara’s nose again.

This was all Buffy’s fault. Tara never should have been here. She should never have had to contend with Walsh’s goons or Ethan’s mind meld. “Come on. We have to go,” she whispered. She needed to get everyone to safety, and then she could figure out what to do with Walsh and Englemann and the lab sitting under UC-Sunnydale. Lacing her arm with Tara’s, Buffy helped the other girl to her feet, keeping their connection when Tara swayed.

It was time to get the Hell out of here.

Unfortunately, their progress back to the cars was glacial. Even before they reached the main building, Buffy was almost carrying Tara, and Willow staggered under Faith’s increasing dependence on her help. Only Giles and Joyce moved easily, and had assumed front- and rear-guard positions. Shutting her mind against fatigue, Buffy walked on autopilot. One step. Two. The glass windows of the administrative office finally appeared ahead. Thank God. They were almost back to the kitchen.

Then the windows lit up. Lights reflected from the glass and bodies materialized from the shadows. “Freeze! Sunnydale PD! Nobody move!”


	48. Chapter 48

Blinking against the glare, Buffy slowly raised her hands. Unbelievable. In four years of Slaying, she’d run into the cops twice. And one of those had actually been a demon plot to kill her.

Giles stepped forward while Buffy cursed her bad luck. “I’m so sorry. My name is Rupert Giles, and I was the librarian at the old Sunnydale High School.” His voice was more clipped and British than Buffy had ever heard it. Not to mention Giles sounded like a complete airhead as he continued. “I didn’t mean to cause a ruckus. When I heard the new school was about to open, I thought perhaps I should pop in and see if some of my special research books had survived the explosion.”

“Do not move! Stay where you are.” The voice emanating from the lights wasn’t amused by Giles’ lame explanation. “You are all under arrest. Get down on your knees and lace your fingers behind your head.”

One by one, each of the Scoobies followed the order. Buffy was the last. She helped Tara into the required position and waited long enough to make sure Tara wouldn’t collapse. Then, with a final impotent glare, she joined the rest of the gang on the ground. The thin grass was cool and wet against her jeans and quickly seeped through the denim. Her arms trembled with fatigue in seconds.

“Might I inquire into the charges?” Giles didn’t know when to shut up. They’d broken into the school. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why the police were arresting them.

There was no answer. Not even another impatient reminder to stay frozen. The figures standing in the blaze of what Buffy finally realized were floodlights mounted on the top of several large vehicles didn’t move. And that lack of movement bothered her.

If they were under arrest, why didn’t the cops put them in handcuffs?

Without moving her head, Buffy peered into the lights. Squinting helped a little. Five men stood between the Scoobies and the police vehicles. Only…there was no Sunnydale PD logo on the doors.

Had anyone else noticed? “Faith!” Buffy hissed. “Not cops.” Her voice was barely more than a breath.

And it was still enough. “Who?” Faith’s response was equally soft.

Buffy didn’t know. She had had a lifetime of fighting unknown enemies. It just so happened that she’d already defeated one that night. And he’d been a lot scarier than the worthless Sunnydale police department. The long night, the lingering fear of failure and death, pushed her over the edge. Buffy dropped her hands and stood in one smooth motion.

Two steps put her close enough to see more than the outline of men. She saw guns and uniforms. Not the dark blue uniforms of Sunnydale’s finest, though. These were camouflaged, like Riley’s. “You’re not cops!”

One of the soldiers moved. He was different than the rest. Two tiny silver bird insignias rested on the shoulders of his crisply ironed jacket and a patch with what looked like a crossed sword and lightning bolt marked the left sleeve. “As far as this town is concerned, we _are_ the police. And when you and your friends are arrested and shipped to a federal prison, no one will question our actions.”

That was true. No one in Sunnydale asked questions. Too bad for Bird Man that Buffy wasn’t going to let his plan work. “Sorry. I don’t look good in orange.” As Buffy spoke, Faith took a spot at her shoulder. Perfect. With absolute conviction – and not a little anger – Buffy addressed the man again. “Here’s the way this works. You and your goons are going to get in your cars and drive away. You won’t go back to the tunnels. You won’t take any research notes. And you _won’t come back_ again.”

The quad was completely silent now. Bird Man glared, his body stiff under his uniform. “Take them into custody,” the man snapped.  The pretense was over. He stalked toward Buffy as camouflaged men emerged from the shadows. Each of them carried a rifle at the ready. As the soldiers formed a circle around the kneeling Scoobies, pairs of men broke off and slung their weapons across their shoulders. Handcuffs flashed in the vehicle lights.

Handcuffs. Plain old handcuffs.

Buffy’s momentary hoped flamed – and then dampened. There were too many men, too many guns. These weren’t Walsh’s troops; every weapon was raised and trained on a Scooby. Still mentally scrambling for an escape plan, Buffy jumped when hands roughly grabbed her arms, forcing them behind her back.

A gasp and muffled groan tore from Faith as she received similar treatment.

Cold metal wrapped around Buffy’s right wrist. The click as it closed was a stark interruption of the purring vehicle engines. Another click and Buffy’s left wrist was immobilized. She knew one quick pull would break the connecting chain. In a heartbeat, she could be free.

The knowledge didn’t chase away the fear that had her knees on the verge of giving out.

Like sheep, the Scoobies were shepherded toward the vehicles in a single-file line. Buffy watched their progress from the rear. Giles was ramrod straight, lips a thin line of anger. Willow continually stumbled as she tried to check on Faith instead of paying attention to the terrain.

The murmur of far off voices didn’t interrupt her vigil. Buffy’s arms went taut and the handcuffs squeaked a protest when a soldier roughly shoved a dazed Tara. She took a step in their direction before the soldier to her left jabbed his rifle into the small of the back.

“Colonel!” The surreal silence shattered at the sudden shout. The soldiers herding the Scoobies froze.

Bird Man, the Colonel, whipped around toward the voice.

“The base…Reports…” Even the man’s uniform looked pale. “The USTs broke free as Team Two began cleanup procedures.” Buffy didn’t know what a UST was, but from the man’s reaction, it wasn’t a good thing.

The Colonel didn’t look pleased, either. “How many?”

Everyone in the quad hung on the slow-to-arrive answer. “All of them, sir.”

“USTs…” Buffy stepped away from her captors. “You mean the demons and vampires you’ve been keeping in the tunnels under the campus.” It was the only logical explanation. “Do you even know what you’ve done? What they’re capable of?”

With a pinch-faced expression that would have done Giles’ proud, the Colonel stated, “This is not your concern.” He gestured impatiently toward the vehicles. “Load them up. Now!” Clearly finished with Buffy, he turned away. “Sergeant, radio Sector Command and have reinforcements sent in. I want all trace of the USTs and the Initiative wiped out using any means necessary.”

“You fool!” Giles must have been reading Buffy’s thoughts – although, his comment was nicer than what hovered on her lips. “What are you planning to do? Shoot your way through the throng of demons?”

The Colonel didn’t answer verbally, but the way he shifted and cleared his throat gave him away.

It was time to put the Colonel in his place. Bunching her muscles, Buffy yanked her hands apart in one explosive movement. The handcuff chains snapped as if they’d been made with paper. “Call your tools off, Colonel, and get out of Sunnydale. You don’t understand what goes on here, and you can’t handle the mess you’ve made.”

“Ms. Summers…” Military discipline disappeared as the Colonel lost his cool.

“Save it for someone who cares.” With a sudden surge of Slayer speed, Buffy grabbed the gun from the soldier behind her and jabbed the butt into his stomach. He doubled at the same time that she turned and met the Colonel’s eyes. In a move she’d used one other time to display her super strength, Buffy bent the metal from its stiff, straight line into a mangled pretzel of twisted parts.  “This is our town. Take your toy soldiers and get out. Leave the clean up to the professionals.”

Buffy’s order was sheer bravado. She was beyond tired and had used the last of her strength on the gun. Faith was in no shape to fight her way free, and Willow had been running on fumes for hours.

She’d forgotten Tara. In a soft voice, she spoke a few words and the quad lit up like Tara had turned on the sun.

When the light faded, Buffy acted as if that level of magic was normal – and that her eyes weren’t watering from the glare. “Next time, I’ll have her blow up a few of your Jeeps. Maybe melt a few of your guns,” she said with shameless exaggeration.

The Colonel bought her lie. His air of command nearly gone, he staggered toward one of the vehicles. “Pull out!”

In a rush, the soldier broke and ran for safety. Seconds later, they were gone.

“Think the bastard coulda at least left the fuckin’ handcuff keys,” Faith muttered.

***

Nearly asleep on her feet, Buffy leaned against the doorframe as she gracelessly jammed her key in the lock. After a brief struggle, she managed to unlock the door and stumble inside.

“Buffy!” Tara was next to her in a flash, ducking under Buffy’s left arm and supporting her all the way to Buffy’s bed. “What happened?”

“Ran into the last of Walsh’s pet demons.” God, the bed felt so good. It had been weeks since she’d gotten more than a couple hours of sleep at a time And, as an added bonus, it was Friday night. There were no classes to attend in a near-coma state. “Big surprise; they were still mad about their time in Demon Jail.”

So mad they’d rushed her all at once. It had been touch and go for a few minutes.

“You need to rest, Buffy.” Gentle hands went to work on the buttons of her shirt. Tara slipped the blood-stained and torn garment off Buffy’s shoulders and then helped her lay flat on the mattress. Boots were pulled off and Buffy’s pants were removed.

With a soft sigh, Buffy relaxed. “Thanks, Tara.” The words didn’t seem like enough. Tara had been there for her all week, waiting up with food, conversation, bandages… Whatever Buffy needed at the end of her patrol. She reached for Tara’s hand. “Why are you still here?” She’d asked the question every night and never received an answer.

It was no different this time. “Shh, Buffy. Just go to sleep.”

Buffy craved sleep, but she needed to know even more. Forcing her eyes open, she peered up at Tara.

Cheeks lightly flushed, Tara didn’t meet Buffy’s eyes.

Not because she hid behind her hair as usual. Not because she was dodging Buffy’s determined stare.

No. Tara watched Buffy’s chest rise and fall with each breath. Watched with a clear mixture of guilt and pleasure.

Now Buffy’s cheeks burned. So did her nipples – which hardened in response to Tara’s gaze. Buffy froze and her breathing quickened just like it had when she’d been Cave Buffy and tackled Tara in her mother’s kitchen. Only Buffy wasn’t drunk on bespelled beer right now.

Trying to make sense of everything, Buffy gripped Tara’s hands. “Tara?” What was it Tara had said while she’d wrestled with Cave Buffy and a washcloth? Something about needing a shower.

A cold shower.

Her grip tightened on Tara’s fingers.

Tara must have noticed Buffy’s physical reaction and misread it. “You’re cold, sweetie.” Retrieving her hands, she dragged the sheet and comforter from under Buffy’s feet and pulled them both all the way up to Buffy’s chin. “Good night, sweetie.” On her way across the short space between their beds, she turned off the lamp on the nightstand, plunging the room into darkness.

Plunging Buffy further into confusion.

Tara couldn’t…hadn’t been… Had she? And why did the answers matter so much to Buffy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far... Thanks for reading. When I originally published this fic, nearly a decade ago, I had grand plans for a sequel. That's still gathering dust with the rest of the plot bunnies in the Vault. With my Muse suffering from one of the words Blocks since we started writing, who know? Maybe you'll actually see a follow-up. I'm letting the Muse decide where she wants to try to find words at the moment.


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